


For the Mission

by sirconnie



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Black Character(s), F/F, Female Character of Color, Femslash, Minor Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-06-03 14:42:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 79,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6614650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirconnie/pseuds/sirconnie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cerberus Operative Miranda Lawson always predicted that the second Commander Shepard opened her eyes for the first time in two years, everything would go straight to hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “Commander Shepard has been recovered.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First fic on AO3 ever and it's femslash hell yeah hell YEAH. Been sitting on this one for some time and I've finally acquired the time and motivation to get it started. Starting short to ease any potential readers into it. Hope it's enjoyable. I apologize for any typos. Everything will be in Miranda's POV, in third-person close.

Miranda knew when they wheeled that charred, broken body into the operating room that this assignment was going to take everything she had. She doesn’t know what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t this big slab of unmoving meat barely managing not to rot.

Doesn’t matter. She’s been given an objective and the resources necessary. She’s not going to fail. Even if Wilson is doing his damnedest to make it so. If he _must_ be present during the project, Miranda really wishes he’d just stand in the corner and pretend he’s a wall (wouldn’t be a stretch, considering he’s about as medically useful as one). If she has to correct that man’s numbers one more time, Shepard won’t be the only lifeless corpse in the room.

Despite Wilson’s uselessness, the Lazarus Project is maintaining good progress. Miranda wants to say she’s upset that she’s spent two years of her life reviving the same woman who’s destroyed some of Cerberus’ best labs, but she’s actually enjoyed the challenge. There’s a new obstacle almost every day, and she’s most satisfied when the commander would stay stable for over 48 hours - then she flat-lines and it’s back to the drawing board. And Miranda went back to the drawing board a lot - sometimes the cybernetic implants would reject the host, or the body’s blood flow would be unsteady, or it turns out Wilson used a sedative that Shepard is allergic to and they have to scramble to keep her heart beating.

There was always something new to learn or fix; like the fact that Shepard's eyes, now finally restored, though not quite functional yet, were donated and given to her in an operation when she was eleven. Her biotic amp, an L3 implant, was completely fried and had to be removed before being carefully replaced with an L5x - Miranda doubts that the Illusive Man will thank her if she leaves his favorite war hero without all of her skills intact.

Miranda doesn’t remember the last time she slept for more than three hours. Must be two years now. She works all day and only rests when her body absolutely needs to, which is much less often than people might think, thanks to her genetic tailoring. Even when she does take a break, her time is taken up by looking into Commander Shepard in every capacity - service records, medical records, even clips of interviews on the extranet. Those, in particular, are quite extensive. The woman was on practically every talk show in existence after the Skyllian Blitz - Miranda remembers catching other Cerberus soldiers watching them on their breaks. She hadn’t given them much thought until now, as she watches vid after vid in her darkened office, eyelids heavy but not feeling up to sleeping just yet.

 _“Now, Commander,”_ the host says from her seat across Shepard, her blue skin shimmering under the studio lights. _“This might not be the first time someone’s asked you this, but the public absolutely_ needs _to know. Are you seeing anyone?”_

Shepard grins, looking prim and striking and absolutely nothing like the somewhat human-resembling cadaver Miranda had left on the operating table only an hour ago. Perfect white teeth flash brightly against dark brown skin as she leans forward, blue eyes glittering charmingly when she looks up at the host from underneath long eyelashes.

 _“That depends. Are you single?”_ Miranda pulls her earphones out to escape the audience’s shrieking, something she's been doing a lot lately seeing as no matter what show she's on, Shepard can't seem to resist riling the public up. She watches the Asari host giggle mutely while the commander turns her gaze to the studio audience, giving them a wink that only makes the screaming worse, threatening to ruin her earphones with their sheer volume.

This is probably the twentieth interview Miranda has watched in the past three days, not counting the countless number she’s already seen since the Lazarus Project began. She’d wanted to know more about the woman she’s putting all her time and effort to revive, the woman the Illusive Man spent billions of credits on the technology to make it so. After viewing all these talk show segments and watching her smile and flirt and charm her way through all of them, Miranda is absolutely sure of one thing.

Commander Shepard is an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the start! Hope it's not too terribly disappointing. Thanks for reading!


	2. Crises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! This one is accidentally way longer, but I had fun writing it. This fic is starting slow but I swear it's gonna pick up [raises fist weakly]
> 
> Each chapter will have a portion at the end that features a segment of one of Shepard's old interviews. All in the POV of Miranda, who is watching them.

“That’s not supposed to happen,” Miranda mutters, staring at the irregular numbers appearing on the computer in front of her. The figures indicating Shepard’s vitals are spiking, increasing more rapidly than ever. There’s never been this much activity, not once.

“What’s not?” Wilson asks, walking over and taking a look himself.

“There. On the monitor.” She enlarges Shepard’s bio-readings to get a better look and shakes her head - another day another hitch. “Something’s wrong.”

Wilson scans the read-out and looks back at Shepard curiously. “She’s reacting to outside stimuli. Showing an awareness to her surroundings.” Miranda shakes her head again, tapping away at the terminal, her brain no more fried than usual, but still having a hard time working to the best of her ability. She rubs at her brow firmly, willing the fog to clear while the numbers on the screen just keep climbing higher. She only now notices an incessant beeping coming from one of the machines.

“Oh my god, Miranda,” Wilson breathes. “I think she’s waking up.” Miranda’s head whips in direction of the operating table, eyes widening at the sight of Commander Shepard wriggling on it, limbs shaking and moving about weakly. Miranda rushes to the table just as Shepard’s head starts rolling around on her neck, eyes dazed and mouth open as she takes wheezy breaths.

“Damn it, Wilson, she’s not ready yet,” Miranda snaps, glaring at the man standing on the other side of the table as he looks down at Shepard in an almost amused manner. “Give her the sedative!” Miranda sees something move in the corner of her eye and looks down to see Shepard reaching out to her feebly, eyes barely open now and her breathing getting even louder, not quite overpowering the beeping from the heart monitor that’s only getting more frantic.

Wilson rushes to the terminal while Miranda does her best to stay calm despite her growing dread. She carefully puts the commander’s arm back down and keeps it there. “Shepard, don’t try to move.” Her voice is level, if only slightly frazzled, as she looks into Shepard’s wide, racing eyes. “Just lie still. Try to stay calm.”

“Heart-rate still climbing.” Miranda scowls at Wilson as he doesn’t do nearly enough to save the Illusive Man’s investment. “Brain activity is off the charts!”

They can’t lose her now. If she flat-lines this time, there’s no way to know for sure they can bring her back again, and they’re so _close_. Miranda lets go of Shepard’s arm and strides to the monitor, her heart hammering in her chest and the exhausted fog in her head finally giving way to a very focused panic.

“Stats pushing into the red zone. It’s not working!” Wilson bites out just before Miranda none-too-gently pushes him out of the way. She glances at the screen for half a second while the heart monitor keeps beeping at her and every machine in the room clangs and screams the same message: **Shepard is dying. You have failed.**

No. Not yet. Miranda turns to Wilson and barks, “Another dose, _now_.” He hastens to obey while Miranda’s heart lodges itself in her throat.

“Heart-rate dropping. Stats falling back into normal range,” Wilson says after what feels like an eternity. The relentless beeping slows down to the normal low noise Miranda’s used to and she lets out a tightly held breath. She walks back to the operating table on unsteady legs and looks down at Shepard, the woman now still and breathing slowly. Jagged orange lines mark her relaxed face and her eyes are still slightly open when they move to look at Miranda with an unusual clarity. Miranda meets her gaze steadily, feeling herself faintly smile.

It worked. The investment is alive. She didn’t fail. The commander’s eyelids flutter and she takes a deep breath as if she heard Miranda’s thoughts and wants to drive home just how alive she is. Wilson’s voice breaks the stillness and she tears her gaze away from Shepard’s half-mast eyelids to scowl at him.

“That was too close. We almost lost her--”

“I told you your estimates were off,” she snaps. “Run the numbers again.” Wilson glares at her, but does as he’s told, shuffling back to the terminal. Miranda watches him go before turning back to Shepard, catching her just as her eyes finally close. Miranda lets out another sigh and watches her sleep for a moment before going back to her own monitor.

Disaster averted. Back to work.

 

* * *

 

Miranda enters the D wing first thing in the morning cycle, head bowed over a datapad. Her staff patters around her, tapping at their terminals and talking lowly. One of them, Dawes, gives her an update on the asset’s condition on his own tablet. Miranda looks it over - Shepard’s vitals look fine, no repeats of that last scare a few months back. Looks like she’ll be ready to be woken up soon.

“Has the armor been delivered?” Miranda asks

“Yes, ma’am,” Dawes replies. “Ready and waiting for the commander when she needs it.”

“Has it been sent to the medbay?”

“Yes, ma’am, along with an Alliance standard pistol.”

“Good work. Back to your duties.” Dawes nods and marches off to his terminal. Miranda recently had the idea of getting a perfect replica of Shepard’s N7 armor made and put where the commander will see it, hoping seeing something familiar will make the transition easier. The pistol is just extra, though she made sure to keep it empty, seeing as a confused soldier is usually a dangerous one.

Miranda walks into the adjoining room, the door sliding shut behind her as she looks over further readings on the monitor. She works on some reports and quickly checks on one of her contacts on Illium, making sure Oriana is still safe. She’s in there for half an hour before she hears several popping sounds followed by as many heavy thuds just outside of the room. Miranda looks out the small window by the server room door to see Wilson holding a pistol in the air, the bloodied bodies of her staff at his feet.

She jumps into action, racing to the door with a hand on her sidearm before the light at the center of the door glows red and she slams into it, punching in codes that do nothing to the locked exit.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Wilson says smugly through the door. “I’ve got a station to clean up, and I’m going to need you to stay out of my way.”

“You can’t honestly think you’ll get away with this,” Miranda says coldly, glaring at him through the glass. “That I won’t find you and tear your throat out.”

“Well, I’ve got a thick steel door and a bulletproof window standing between us right now, so I think I like my odds.” He turns and walks away, grinning like a buffoon all the while. “Why don’t you relax while I go take care of our little project? I’ll send some friends your way soon.”

Miranda clenches her fists, shock giving way to fury as she watches him leave. Fury is soon replaced by panic, however, when she realizes what he’s just said.

He’s going to kill Shepard. He’s going to destroy what she’s slaved over for over two years, he’s going to ruin _everything_. Miranda looks about the room wildly and her eyes land on a terminal across from her. She races to it and punches in her clearance codes, frantically searching for anything resembling a security feed. The screen in front of her soon reveals live footage of the research station and Miranda flicks through the hundreds of cameras to find the one in the operating room. She spots the YMIR and LOKI mechs moving from their programmed positions - Wilson must’ve gotten to the server room. Miranda pays no mind to either the scenes of Cerberus scientists and soldiers getting massacred by the mechs or the clamor of gunfire and explosions and pushes the button on the terminal fiercely, searching for the right footage. Where is she, where is she, where--

There! Miranda’s finger freezes when the screen finally shows her what she’s looking for - Commander Shepard lying on the operating bed, still and vulnerable. Miranda can hear the faint roar of the fight coming from the speakers and sees Shepard’s body shake, disturbed by the rumbles. They’re close.

Miranda searches for a communications unit and slams her hand down on the button. “Wake up, Commander.” Shepard doesn’t respond. Another detonation jostles her body more violently and Miranda curses under her breath before talking to the screen again. “Shepard, do you hear me? Get out of that bed _now_ , this facility is under attack.”

The commander’s eyes flutter open and Miranda can barely hold in a breath of relief. Shepard’s hand goes to her own face as she stretches her jaw, glowing lines pulling taut in her skin.

“Shepard, your scars aren’t healed, but I need you to get moving. This facility is _under attack,_ ” Miranda repeats - perhaps a sense of urgency will push the soldier into action. Her hypothesis is proven right when Shepard sits up gingerly and swings her legs over to the ground. Miranda watches her look about the room briefly before she hobbles to her feet, barely managing to stand up straight. Another explosion roars into Miranda’s ears and it’s with a jolt that she realizes that it isn’t coming from the video feed.

“Grab the pistol and armor from the locker,” Miranda barks. Shepard turns to the direction of the locker and stumbles over to it far too slowly. When she makes it there, she reaches inside and pulls out the pieces of the armor mechanically, putting them on one at a time with a practiced efficiency. Miranda can hear her groan and hiss when each part clicks into place. When she’s finally done, Shepard leans against the wall, her labored breathing audible in the feed.

What is she doing? Miranda can’t even tell if the sounds of another firefight are coming from where Shepard is anymore and the woman is just standing around. Miranda punches the button again and bites out, “You don’t have time to wait around, Shepard, you have to move!”

_“It hurts."_

Miranda pauses, noticing the tremor in Shepard voice and frame. Damn, the scars must be worse than she expected. She hadn’t even considered how over-sensitized the commander must be right now, her nerve endings new and tender to every touch. Her body must be feeling like an open wound.

Miranda shakes off the thought and gets back on point. “Shepard, you have to keep going. Grab your weapon from the locker.” Shepard nods and does as she’s told, taking the pistol and moving it in her hands.

_“This pistol doesn’t have a thermal clip."_

“Of course not, you’re in a medbay. We’ll get you a clip from--” A row of digits pops into the screen, blocking part of her view just as the barrels of highly-explosive materials on the other end of the room start to ignite.

“Damn it! Keep your head down, Shepard, shield yourself from the blast!” Miranda manages to say just before the commander rushes to crouch behind a nearby low wall and the barrels explode, destroying the medbay doors and leaving smoke and flames in their wake.

Shit, that was too close. Miranda glances at the numbers on her screen again - those barrels wouldn’t have exploded without an order, they can’t have. The only way to do it remotely is to--damn.

“Someone’s hacking security trying to kill you,” Miranda says, not able to keep the frustration out of her voice. When she gets her hands on that Wilson, he’s going to wish he was never born. “Look for a thermal clip for your pistol.” She watches Shepard leave the room before looking for the video feed of the hallway just outside of the medbay. She finds it just as the commander grabs a thermal clip on the ground near a body and arms herself.

Miranda helps her along almost the entire way through, opening doors and warning her when she spots more mechs coming in. To her credit, the commander is moving swiftly, disabling hostiles and rolling into cover like she wasn’t basically a corpse less than a year ago.

“You’re doing great, Shepard. Head to the evac area and I’ll meet you in a minute,” Miranda’s almost got Shepard halfway to the extraction point when the screen starts to flicker. Static covers her vision and won’t clear no matter how many buttons or codes she punches in. An all too close explosion rocks the entire room and she whips her head in that direction to see flames surrounding the outermost door, a team of LOKI mechs along with an enormous YMIR pour into the room, guns blazing. They march over to her door and raise their guns to blast through it as well.

“Shepard, can you hear me?” Miranda calls, not even sure if she’s getting through. “I’ve got mechs closing in on my position, you have to get to the--” She's interrupted by the door crashing open, leaving nothing in between her and the armed machines.

Miranda throws up a biotic barrier just before the barrage hits. A storm of bullets rain around her, hitting the room’s equipment and bouncing off of her barrier, destroying any chance of communicating any further with the Commander. Miranda slides into cover. She’s just about done waiting around anyway. She makes quick work of mechs, shooting their heads off with her sidearm or crushing them with her biotics before racing out of the room, stepping over dismembered machines as she goes.

Miranda makes her way over to the evacuation area with little trouble, anxiety bubbling with every minute the commander hasn’t arrived. She thinks of Jacob, hoping he survived the attack. He’d make sure Shepard gets here safely, she’s sure of it. As for Wilson, he’d better hope his ridiculous plan backfired and he got shot by one of the mechs by mistake - that pales in comparison to what she’ll do to him the second she--

No, she can’t get emotional. She has to get Shepard to the Illusive Man, that’s priority number one. If she sees Wilson, she’ll make it quick and clean, no time to indulge in grudges. She gets to the evac area and looks around, not seeing Shepard anywhere. She must still be fighting, there’s little chance those machines took her down. Miranda moves to go back into the building when the center of the door lights up and the whirs to life.

“C’mon, through here. We’re almost at the--” The door springs open and Miranda’s face to face with Wilson, his eyes wide as he takes her in, making him look more like a dolt than usual.

“Miranda!” Wilson starts, taking a half-step away from her. “But you were--” Miranda raises her pistol and promptly shoots him in the head, not wasting any time on traitors. She watches in disgust as he drops to the ground.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jacob demands, looking down at Wilson in shock.

“My job,” Miranda says easily, stepping around the garbage at her feet. “Wilson betrayed us all.”

“Even if you’re sure.” Miranda turns to Shepard as the commander speaks. “I don’t think he deserved that welcome.”

“He sabotaged my security systems and killed my staff. He would’ve killed us, too.” Miranda answers while she looks Shepard over with a clinical eye, paying no mind to the gun the commander has pointed to her head, though it is difficult - her face is drawn, but she’s shaking less, tremors just barely noticeable in her arms and head. Her eyes are bright and glaring at Miranda, but they’re clear. Her dark hair, much longer now than it was two years ago, falls over her cheeks and hangs just over her shoulders, tousled but healthy. Everything looks good so far.

Despite both their suspicions, it doesn’t take much convincing to get Jacob to see she’s right, and when he relents, Shepard soon follows. Miranda fields her questions quickly and they soon get on the shuttle to Minuteman Station, Miranda anxious to get off the station while they can.

In the shuttle, she sits across from the commander and watches her stare out into the blackness. The cracks in her skin glow in the darkness and Miranda isn’t sure if she likes the dazed look in her eyes. Soon, Miranda says, “Before you meet with the Illusive Man, we need to ask a few questions to evaluate your condition.”

Jacob frowns. “C’mon, Miranda, more tests? Shepard took down those mechs without any trouble. That has to be good enough.”

“It’s been two years since the attack,” Miranda presses. “The Illusive man needs to know that Shepard’s personality and memories are intact. Ask the questions.”

“Wait,” Shepard pipes up, voice quiet and eyes widening. “Did you say _two years_? I’ve been gone that long?”

“Two years and twelve days,” Jacob says gently. “And you were on an operating table for most of it.” Shepard looks down, eyebrows furrowing. Her hand goes to her head, fingers digging into her thick hair as she looks to be struggling with this information. Miranda sees her other hand clench and unclench in her lap as the commander rubs at her scalp.

This is wasting time, they have to stay on task if they’re going to be ready for the Illusive Man. “The sooner we start the sooner we can get done,” Miranda says to Jacob. “Start with personal history.” Jacob rolls his eyes but pulls out his omni-tool and gets to the questions. He starts with her upbringing as a spacer and the commander only stares at him. He brings up her efforts at the Skyllian Blitz and she blinks twice, but has no signs of recognition.

Jacob turns to Miranda. “I’m guessing that's not normal?” Miranda ignores him and leans forward in her seat.

“Virmire, where you destroyed Saren’s cloning facility,” she begins. Perhaps something more recent will be easier for her to recall. “You managed to save your entire team at the risk of the mission.”

“Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams was pulled out of action due to her injuries, but you just barely made it to her,” Jacob adds, catching on. "You endangered the entire mission for one Marine. Why didn't you just leave her behind?”

Shepard’s eyes focus in understanding. She looks down again and rests her hands on her lap. “Nobody gets left behind,” she breathes. Her voice is flat and lifeless, like she's said the words a million times. "The mission...mission doesn't matter. Had to go back. Had to get her."

“I understand, Commander,” Jacob says almost delicately. “We weren’t judging your decision.That cloning facility had to be destroyed, but your crew comes first. You did a hell of a thing.”

Shepard only nods faintly. Miranda looks at her, mind racing - this is wrong, she’s not behaving the way she’s supposed to. Miranda’s watched all those interviews, she knows this woman inside and out, and none of this is familiar. She was supposed to keep Shepard’s personality intact, and she took great pains to make it so, even foregoing the damn control chip, but it was all for nothing. The trauma from the attack two years ago must’ve been more extensive than she had thought, even if the commander’s helmet kept some of her skull intact. The woman doesn’t even remember her own childhood, how is the Illusive Man going to--

“I think we’re good on the questions, right, Miranda?” Jacob asks, breaking the silence and pausing Miranda’s growing dread, if only for the moment. She nods and sits back, staring out of the window with a stab of irritation.

Damn it. Two years of work all to revive a soldier with brain damage. She did fail, after all.

 

* * *

 

_”I don’t know if you’ve heard…”_

_“Oh, god,”_ Shepard groans, head bowed and making the audience laugh. _“I was kinda hoping you wouldn’t mention it.”_

 _“Sorry, Commander, but we have to know,”_ the host, a congenial Turian, has the news article projected onto the screen behind them. _“Our mysterious Major Mercy has published another work, and it is_ not _flattering.”_

_“Big surprise. Just don’t tell me if they made fun of my hair again. I don’t think I’d be able to recover.”_

The Turian laughs. _“Don’t worry, Commander, your hair is safe. They’re going after the Alliance for the mission on Torfan, claiming that soldiers killed the Batarians who’d surrendered as well as the ones who fought,”_ the host explains to both the commander and a quiet audience. _“They’re especially criticizing you, seeing as you represent the Systems Alliance. Have you anything to say about that?”_

The commander thinks for a moment, leaning back in her seat. _“I think a lot of people in the military would resent Major Mercy for their work. They’d think they’re sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong or rocking the boat._

 _“I disagree,”_ she goes on. _“I think a journalist’s job is to ask the hard questions and to inform the public the best way they can. Mercy, bloggers, even esteemed talk show hosts,"_ she gestures to the amused Turian, _"you all have a duty to the public and that duty is to shed light on what's important. What happened on Torfan was a disaster and it’s something I, and other soldiers like myself, are never going to let happen again, especially now that Mercy’s called us out on it. The Alliance cannot be an organization where soldiers get license to be murderers.”_

 _“A very reasonable response,”_ the host says, nodding while the crowd bursts into applause.

 _“I try. And to Major Mercy, if you’re watching,”_ the commander says, facing the camera with a smile like merchandise. _“Keep up the good work. You’re moving the stars.”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always headcanoned that my Shep would have some pretty substantial memory loss after being spaced and comatose. This'll come up a lot, so get ready for that. Hope you're enjoying this so far! Thanks for reading!


	3. Friction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the train keeps chugging. Some conflict in this one. Some familiar friends, too. Hope y'all like it

“The Illusive Man is very impressed with you,” Miranda says as Shepard approaches her. She’d gotten a report from the man himself just a second before the commander came back from her briefing. She’s not sure how, but the commander had managed to convince him that she wasn’t completely out of it, judging from the overall positive report. “I’m eager to see if you can live up to this expectations on this mission.”

Shepard shuffles on her feet. “I’ll do my best.” Miranda glances up at her and notices her brow is still furrowed, her face still in wearing that perpetual confused expression. “So, you’ll be following my orders?”

“As long as you don’t do anything to betray Cerberus, yes,” Miranda answers promptly, turning her attention back to the monitor in front of her.

“Uh, look,” the commander says haltingly. “I think I should probably thank you for what you did. Bringing me back and everything. I'll bet it wasn’t easy.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Miranda says shortly, looking at her again. “I just hope it was worth it. At lot of people lost their lives on that station.”

“Right. Me, too.”

“Good.”

Shepard raises a thick eyebrow at her. “Is there some kind of problem?”

“Not at all.”

“For someone who spent two years putting me back together, you don’t seem real fond of me.”

Miranda frowns. “I have the utmost respect for your abilities, Shepard. It’s your motivations that concern me.” She faces Shepard more fully but still has to tilt her head upwards to look her in the eye. “I believe in what Cerberus stands for. Only time will tell if you prove to be an asset or a liability to our cause.”

“You mean ‘the advancement and preservation of humanity’?” Shepard says wryly. “I got the sales pitch from your boss.”

“Then you know what’s at stake. And why we were so desperate to bring you back.”

“Project Lazarus, right? You were in charge of that?”

“No, the Illusive Man was,” Miranda says only a little pensively. “If I was running the show, we’d have done a few things differently.”

“Like what?”

“It doesn't matter, now. The Illusive Man was in control, that's all there is to it."

"Ah. Okay."

“He's taking an incredible risk with you.” Even more so than he’s aware of. “I just hope his gamble pays off.”

“We're agreed on that. I noticed I've been given a few upgrades,” Shepard says, raising her arm and moving it around a little. “I feel...heavier. Faster, too.”

“That’ll be the cybernetic implants. They ought to help you heal faster, as well.”

“Huh. Anything else you’ve changed?”

“Not really. The Illusive Man wanted you altered as little as possible.” Miranda crosses her arms and gives the commander another brief once-over. “Nothing was changed outside of what was absolutely necessary. Your biotic implant was replaced, but that’s the extent of it.”

“Wait, what?” Shepard starts, eyebrows rising high on her face.

“Your implant. We upgraded you to an L5x.” Miranda shrugs. “Nothing too complicated.”

“You _what?"_ The commander’s hand shoots to the back of her neck, her palm slapping against the site of her amp port. She winces at the impact on her sensitive skin, but looks no less outraged. “ _Why?_ Why would you do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Shepard scoffs, “Well, for starters, it could’ve given me _severe brain damage_.”

“You already have that,” Miranda says indifferently. “It was a very straightforward procedure, hardly the most difficult part of your revival.”

“That’s why my biotics were being weird,” Shepard says in realization. “When I was fighting the mechs. I couldn’t control them nearly as well as I used to.”

“Right, that’ll happen. Don’t worry, with some practice you’ll get the hang of it again.”

“It took me _years_ to be able to fight with my biotics,” Shepard fumes, hand still at the back of her neck. “And you still took a huge risk with my head upgrading my implant, you can’t just _do_ that without my consent!”

“You were _comatose_ ,” Miranda says in mild exasperation. “It’s not like I could’ve asked permission. Your old implant was destroyed from the attack, what was I supposed to do?”

“Why didn’t you get another L3?”

“Because they’re out of date. The L5x is safer, more powerful--”

“It’s _different_.”

“Well, get used to it,” Miranda says firmly, already over this entire conversation. “I did what I had to do to make sure you’d come back in one piece. You’ve yet to show me you were worth it, so I would suggest you stop whinging and get started.”

Shepard stares her down, blue eyes still furious. Miranda doesn’t give in, just stares right back at her with her own glare. Soon, the commander turns and leaves, hands balled up into fists as she marches through the door on the other side of the room. Miranda goes back to her monitor before she hears another round of footsteps coming toward her.

“That could’ve gone better,” Jacob says, crossing his arms and looking disappointed. Miranda rolls her eyes. “You know what you did wrong, right?”

“I imagine you’re about to tell me.”

“You can’t treat her like an investment, Miranda.”

“Why not? It’s what she is.”

“C’mon, you know better than that.” Jacob shakes his head. “She just found out she’s been dead for two years. Everything’s new to her. Ease up.”

Miranda sighs, shoulders relaxing. “This would be easier if my entire career didn’t depend on her not completely losing her mind.”

“You realize we have colonists to save, right?”

Miranda laughs. “Fine. I’ll try.”

“Good. You should start by apologizing.”

Miranda starts. “What? I am not--”

“If you want this mission to go without a hitch,” Jacob cuts her off smoothly. “You need to do your part. Be civil. Maybe don’t belittle her concerns over her own mental health.” She rolls her eyes again and manages to keep the peevishness out of her nod. Jacob smiles at her and walks to the same door Shepard left through.

“Freedom’s Progress, here we come,” he says as he leaves. Miranda turns back to her computer and wraps up a few more things before following.

Fine. She can be civil. She’s great at being civil. She’ll be so civil and accommodating, Shepard won’t know what hit her. She’ll suffocate from how friendly Miranda can be, drown in it. She’ll be so struck by the pure, unfiltered benevolence, she’ll have to be brought back from the dead all over again.

Perhaps Miranda shouldn’t see it in such violent terms. She’ll work on it.

 

* * *

 

“Stop right there!” the Quarian barks, gun raised. The rest of them draw their own weapons until there isn’t a person, human or otherwise, who isn’t ready for a fight. All except one Quarian who runs into the fray.

“Prazza! You said you’d let me handle this!” they say, pushing their comrade’s weapon down before turning towards the three of them, arm pulled up in mediation. Their helmeted head freezes at the sight of the commander.

“Wait...Shepard?” the Quarian breathes and the commander’s weapon twitches. After a moment, she lowers it and turns to both Miranda and Jacob in turn, gesturing for them to do the same. Miranda does so, but only slightly, finger still hovering over the trigger.

“I’m not taking any chances with Cerberus operatives!” the one named Prazza snarls, gun still pointed directly at them. The one in the middle moves in the way, arm shot out in front of the guns.

“Put those weapons _down!”_ they bark before turning back to the commander. “Shepard? Is that...you’re alive?”

Miranda guesses this must be Tali’Zorah, the Quarian who helped Shepard stop Saren. She looks different from the photos in her dossier, though it _has_ been two years. She’s surprised she can even recognize the commander, what with her hair being longer and the still glowing scars on her face. Then again, Miranda supposes it’s hard to forget cheekbones like those. Not that she's noticed.

“Yeah…” Shepard says haltingly. Miranda glances at her - she’s got that confused look again. This is a really bad time for her to not have all her memories intact. “Cerberus rebuilt me. We’re looking into the attacks on human colonies.”

“You’ll pardon us for not taking you at your word, _Cerberus_ ,” Prazza grunts.

“We’re well within our rights to investigate a human colony,” Miranda interjects, arms crossed. She’d better turn this conversation in another direction before Tali’Zorah figures out that Shepard has no idea who she is. “I’d like to know what the Quarians are doing here.”

“Weapons down, Prazza,” Tali’Zorah orders, turning to her comrade. “Whatever’s going on here, I don’t think we need another fight.” The other Quarian lowers their weapon and she faces Shepard again.

“One of our people was here on Pilgrimage,” she explains. “His name is Veetor. We came to find him.”

"You think he's still alive?" Shepard asks.

"Yes. When he saw us landing, he hid in the warehouse on the far side of town. We suspect he also programmed the mechs to attack anything that moves."

“Looks like Veetor’s the only one who can tell us what happened here. We ought to work together to find him.” The tight knot that's been sitting in Miranda's stomach since they left the Lazarus Research Station loosens up a little - the commander's taking control, at least there's _something_ left of the old her. Maybe she didn't mess up as much as she'd thought.

“Good idea. You’ll need two teams to get past the drones anyway.”

“Now we’re working with Cerberus?” Prazza asks, incredulous.

“No, Prazza, you’re working for _me_ ,” Tali’Zorah says with finality. “If you can’t follow orders, go wait on the ship.”

“You would allow Cerberus within ten feet of one of our own? After what they did?”

“What did they do?” Shepard asks, half-turning to Miranda as she does.

“They killed our people, infiltrated our flotilla, and tried to blow up one of our ships,” Prazza replies heatedly.

“That’s not how I would’ve explained it, exactly,” Miranda says curtly. “It was nothing personal.” She catches Shepard’s frown and only shrugs.

“We can argue over who killed who later,” Jacob cuts in. “Right now, we’ve got a job to do.”

“Agreed.” Tali’Zorah nods. “Head for the warehouse through the center of the colony. We’ll circle around the far side and draw off some of the drones to clear you a path.”

“Alright.” Shepard raises her pistol and cocks it. “Let's get to it. Stay in radio contact.”

“Will do. Good luck, Shepard.” Tali’Zorah nods and goes on her way, her team following her, if begrudgingly.

The mission goes well, considering they’d decided to put their lives in the hands of Quarians, not to mention the surprise appearance of an YMIR mech. They eventually find Veetor and his information is more than Miranda had expected. If it weren’t, she’d have insisted that they take the Quarian in for questioning, despite the commander’s decision to let him go. But, as it is, the Illusive Man is going to get a very vital report.

When they get back to the station, Shepard heads straight to the briefing room while Miranda goes to log all the Quarian’s data into the Cerberus database. Jacob gets an order on his omni-tool and heads in the direction of the crew’s quarters, leaving her to work. After a few minutes, the entrance of the room springs open again and Miranda hears the familiar sound of Jacob’s military gait, along with another, more unsteady set of footsteps.

“She’s in the briefing room?” Miranda looks up to see Moreau hobbling his way across the room, face brighter and more excited than she’s ever seen it, even when she informed him that the new ship was ready just last night. Jacob nods, looking amused, and Moreau makes his way to Shepard as fast as he’s able, heavy boots thudding on the floor with every step.

They’re on the ship with little fanfare, not counting the ridiculous amount of time wasted over putting _Normandy_ on its hull, and Miranda goes straight to her office to resume her work. The real mission begins now, starting with acquiring the Salarian scientist, Mordin Solus. He won’t be easy to find, but if there’s anyone who can figure out how to counteract the seeker swarms, it’ll be him. Miranda’s filling out reports when her door opens, allowing Jacob to saunter into the room.

“Have you seen your new workstation?” Miranda asks in greeting, eyes still on her monitor. One status report from Illium. All seems well, for now. “I figured you’d be most comfortable around weaponry.”

“You figured right,” Jacob says, leaning against the chair sitting across from her desk. “Apologize yet?”

Miranda groans, looking away from her work to scowl at him. “I haven’t found the opportunity, alright?”

“Well, you’d better find it soon. I know you, if you push it off for too long, you’ll feel too awkward and never do it.” Jacob laughs when she looks away stubbornly. “C’mon, Miranda. Put your big girl jumpsuit on and interact with other human beings.”

“Don’t you have crunches to do?” Miranda snaps. Jacob raises his hands in surrender, still chuckling as he leaves her office. Miranda leans an elbow on the desk and rests her chin on her palm, irritated with him for insinuating that she has difficulty forming connections with other people and with herself for knowing he’s right.

She runs a hand through her loose hair and lets out another groan. The thought of marching up to the commander and apologizing makes her balk, but if she doesn’t get around to it, it’ll grow into something bigger than it is and might even get in the way of the mission’s success. The very idea strengthens Miranda’s resolve.

Fine. She'll apologize. For the mission, she'll play nice and keep Shepard happy, or at least calm. Anything it takes to keep from failing. She will _not_ fail. Not this time.

 

* * *

 

 _“What’s it like, being away from your family so often?”_   the weedy human host asks, her angular face tilting sympathetically. The commander smiles at the ground from her seat for a moment before answering.

 _“It’s always hard, but not as much as people think,”_   Shepard directs her smile back to the host. _“When I’m home, one or both of my mothers are on tour. When I’m not, they’re usually both home. Now that I think about it, that might not be as random as I thought.”_ The studio audience laughs.

 _“But, you must all be at home sometimes?”_   the host asks once she’s finished giggling.

 _“Oh, sure. Then, it’s a party.”_   Shepard’s smile only widens as she talks with her hands while somehow maintaining her perfect posture. _“We have a big ol’ Texas barbecue and have the whole family over. It’s really fun.”_

_“Is Captain Anderson ever invited to these parties?”_

_“He is! He just never shows up!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good old Miranda's on a mission. Will she achieve the goal she's set for herself? Unlikely. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Horizon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving forward! Time to get through those big missions and have a semblance of a plot WHOOP WHOOP

Miranda steps onto the Normandy’s bridge, not altogether surprised to see Shepard already there, listening to Moreau as he gestures animatedly and regales her with another one of his ‘Tales From the SR1’.

“And then you looked at me and said,” Moreau clears his throat before adopting a high, lilting voice with a thick Southern accent. “ _Oh, Joker, you’re so brave and manly. I’m gonna get the Council to make you a Spectre, you handsome devil, you._ ”

Shepard bursts into laughter, shaking her head. “Yeah, no, somehow I doubt that ever happened. And I don’t sound like that.”

“It’s what you sound like to me. Trust me, I’m telling you nothing but the truth here.”

“Really?” Shepard tilts her head at him. “Because I was just talking to Garrus and he told me that I never gave you a medal for having the best beard in the Alliance like you said I did.”

“Oh, well, he’s just jealous ‘cause he can’t grow one,” Joker says casually. Shepard keeps shaking her head, still chuckling, when she finally notices Miranda standing there, waiting for these two to finish their little banter.

“Oh, hey, Miranda.” The commander greets her with a nod. “Need something?”

“The Illusive Man wants to speak to you,” Miranda replies, crossing her arms. “You would’ve noticed that, Moreau, if you’d look at your board.” He glances at the screen in front of him and winces, the urgent message in the corner flashing in his face.

“Whoops. My bad. Patching him through to the comm room,” he says, hastily working the controls.

The commander lets out another snicker and steps away from the low wall she’d been leaning on. “Later, Joker.”

“Hang on, commander,” Moreau blurts out, grabbing something from one of the compartments in his station. He pulls out a piece of paper and gives it to Shepard with a flourish. “Here you go.” Shepard takes the paper and looks down at it, giving Miranda a decent view of it over her arm. It’s a list of names, some of them familiar like Liara, Tali, and Anderson. The names are followed by brief notes and tiny drawings of their owners’ faces, all of them bulbous and overly cartoonish. The one next to the name ‘Joker’ is particularly exaggerated, the little head wearing a crown and sunglasses and grinning toothily.

Shepard looks at Moreau, her expression puzzled. “What is this?”

“It’s a quick guide on the people who were with us on the first Normandy,” Moreau explains. He leans over to point out the names. “There’s Wrex, Ashley, even Pressly. I added little facts about them, too. You said you were having trouble remembering, right? This might help a little.”

“What’s with the drawings?” Miranda can’t help but ask while Shepard scans the list again.

He shrugs. “I thought a visual aid would make remembering easier.”

“They’re awful. That one looks nothing like Garrus.”

“ _Mr. Moreau viewed many references when he was creating this list_ ,” EDI pipes up, robotic voice clear. “ _He stared at Mr. Vakarian’s photo for an especially long time._ ”

“Thanks,” Moreau says dryly. Shepard looks up from the paper, her expression unreadable.

“You did this for me?” she asks, voice quiet. Moreau fidgets in his chair a little, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“I mean...yeah? You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to, or if it’s too hard to read--”

“ _Mr. Moreau worked very hard on this reference sheet, Commander_ ,” EDI says. “ _The one you have in your hands is the final product after approximately eight drafts_.”

“Would you shut up?” Moreau snaps, face going pink. Shepard stares down at him for a moment while he evades her eyes, brim of his hat hiding most of his blush. Miranda’s sure he wishes she wasn’t here to see this entertaining little display. The commander bends over to place a hand on Moreau’s shoulder, smiling at him when he looks up at her.

“Thank you, Joker,” she says, holding the reference sheet close to her chest and smiling bigger than Miranda’s ever seen her do, even in the three months they’d worked together. “I love it. It’s gonna help a lot.”

Moreau sniffs, pulling the brim of his cap down a bit more. “Good. No problem.” Shepard pats his shoulder gently and pulls away. Miranda catches her expression as the commander walks past her, her eyes down and staring at the paper in her hands, smile still going strong and softening the hard lines of her face.

Miranda isn’t sure she understands, but no matter. If the Illusive Man wants to talk to the commander, then it’s probably about a mission. She turns to head to her office to prepare, catching some of Moreau and EDI’s bickering as she leaves.

“ _Mr. Moreau, I recall you planning to leave the reference sheet in her quarters while she was on a mission. Did you change your mind?_ ”

“Okay, there’s gotta be a button I can press to shut you off.”

“ _I am sorry, Mr. Moreau, but there is not._ ”

“Then can you shut _me_ off?”

 

* * *

 

“Clear,” Garrus breathes and they move further into the colony, stepping over Collector bodies on the way. It’s eerily quiet, but it always is just before another flood, so Miranda holds her gun high and tight. Shepard moves quickly, her own weapon raised as she leans over the edge of a wall, checking for hostiles.

Horizon has been one mob after another, Collectors flying in and making those awful buzzing noises Miranda has already come to hate. It doesn’t help that the colony is so huge, every corner or home unit hiding another pack of the creatures or a paralyzed colonist they keep having to stop themselves from shooting by accident. There aren’t many of them left, however. They’d come too late to keep the people from being abducted and boarded into the Collector ship.

Shepard moves to cut through a home unit, the door wide open near another couple of paralyzed colonists. She steps inside carefully, Miranda and Garrus not far behind, and walks to the other side of the house when they hear a shuffle coming from the closet in the right.

The three of them turn at once, weapons raised. Shepard glances at Miranda and Garrus in turn, nodding slightly before she inches toward the closet. Miranda keeps her gun poised as Shepard reaches for the handle on the door, closing her hand around it quietly. The commander whips the closet open, submachine gun at the ready just before a high-pitched yelp comes from the figure hiding within.

Shepard freezes and Miranda takes a look over her shoulder - a human, probably in their twenties, is crouching in the corner of the closet, hand over their mouth and eyes terrified. Miranda sees the commander’s mouth drop open and watches her pull her gun away from the civilian, hands raised in peace.

“Oh, shit, sorry!” Shepard says quickly, stepping away from the closet. She turns and signals the rest of them to lower their weapons before turning back to the person still cowering in front of her. “We didn’t mean to scare you. You okay?”

“Y-you’re not one of them,” they drop their hand to say, their voice weak and shaken. “A-are you here to help?”

“Yeah, we are,” Shepard says gently as she takes a knee to look the civilian in the eye. “I’m Commander Shepard.”

“Commander Shepard?” they murmur, dark eyes widening. “But, you died!”

“Yeah, turns out that was only temporary,” Garrus says wryly. Shepard gives him a smirk and turns back to the civilian.

“Are you hurt at all?”

“No, but--” They gasp. “My parents! My parents were out there, did you see them?” Miranda looks over her shoulder at the paralyzed couple standing just outside the door, frightened expressions frozen on their face.

“They’re fine,” Shepard replies. “They’ve been paralyzed, but it’ll wear off. Listen, you did a great job hiding here, but it’s not safe to come out yet. I need you to stay in here until we take the rest of the Collectors out, alright?” They nod. “Good.”

Shepard gets to her feet and Miranda readies her weapon. “Try to stay quiet and we'll make sure there aren't any left near here. What’s your name?”

“Samantha,” the colonist replies. “Samantha Traynor.”

“Alright, Samantha, stay safe.” Shepard grins before shutting the closet door carefully. She turns to the others and lifts her weapon. “Let’s move.”

They venture across the colony swiftly, routinely disposing of Collectors as well as the Husks that came with them. Miranda catches the commander shivering after every horde more than once. They reach a locked door once they’ve cleared another area of hostiles and Shepard takes a look at the lock and goes into a crouch.

“I’ve got this,” she says, fiddling with the controls. “Watch my back.”

Miranda and Garrus face the stretch of land they’ve littered with Collector and Husk bodies, guns up. Another few minutes later and she hears the commander curse under her breath.

“Problem, Shepard?” Miranda asks, still scanning the area.

She sighs. “Nothing’s working. Alright, pass me the omni-gel.” Miranda looks at her over her shoulder and sees her with her hand held out, waiting for...omni-gel?

“I’m sorry?”

“Omni-gel. Come on, we have to make this quick.”

“I don’t--”

“Uh, Shepard, that’s not gonna work,” Garrus pipes up.

“What’re you talking about, of course it will,” Shepard replies as if _he’s_ the one who’s not making any sense.

“No, it won’t. There’s been an update,” Garrus says. “We can’t just slap some omni-gel on a lock to make it open anymore.”

“ _What?_ ” Shepard exclaims, rising to her feet. “When?”

“About a year and a half ago?”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Beats me. Look, why don’t I take care of this one? You two cover me.” Garrus moves past Shepard to the door, laying a sympathetic talon on her shoulder before going to work on the lock, his omni-tool lighting up and whirring. Shepard takes her position next to Miranda, weapon ready but still wearing a look full of shock, confusion, and dismay all at once.

“Did you really used to put omni-gel on locks?” Miranda asks, not sure if she can believe something so absurd.

Shepard frowns, apparently deeply disappointed. “This is worse than when Joker told me I missed three Blasto movies.”

Garrus gets the door open quickly enough and they come across a mechanic, Delan, who tells them about the colony’s defense towers. They leave him to cower in the dark and get to work, having to dispatch another few hordes to get to the main transmitter on the other side of the colony. Garrus gets to calibrating almost immediately and the rest of them take down any remaining Collectors. EDI gets the colony’s defenses online and it’s up to them to hold the line. It would be a lot easier if that horrible, booming voice didn’t keep popping up and making Miranda’s teeth ache.

“ _You prolong the inevitable. Your death is assured._ ” Yes, fine, death, she heard it the third time.

Once that’s finally over and done with and the Collector ship decided to turn tail and run, Miranda can take a breath - she's definitely not in the shape she used to be. Maybe working in a medbay for two years has made her soft.

“They bolted,” the commander says, glaring up at the empty sky.

“There’s no reason to stay, most of the colonists were on board,” Garrus replies, lowering his weapon in defeat. “They got what they came for.”

“Ah, shit. Guess we’d better--”

“No!” someone cries and Miranda turns to see Delan racing to them, voice frantic. “Don’t let them get away!”

Shepard gives him what Miranda believes is a sympathetic look and says, “I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do. They’re gone.”

Delan stops in his tracks, looking no less panicked. He rants and gripes about the colonists that were abducted, but Miranda isn’t really paying attention. She’s going to have to catalogue all the new information they found today in her report to the Illusive Man. He’ll want to know he was right about the Collectors’ involvement with the Reapers. She also plans to check on her Illium contacts - it's been a little while since she's gotten a status report. Shepard is doing her best to console the man, but it isn’t working, big surprise. They never thank you when you save their skins. Miranda tunes back in when Garrus defends the commander, addressing her by name, which is never a good idea.

“Shepard? Wait, I know that name,” Delan murmurs. “You’re some type of big Alliance hero.” That’s putting it mildly.

“Commander Shepard. Captain of the Normandy. The first human Spectre. Savior of the Citadel.” Miranda looks to the left to see someone vaguely familiar step out from behind some crates, their eyes only on the commander as they approach. They turn to Delan and say, “You’re in the presence of a legend, Delan. And a ghost.” They face Shepard again for the last part, face almost accusatory.

This must be Kaidan Alenko. Miranda recognizes him from the file Cerberus has on him. The organization is always willing to recruit biotics, especially L2’s. She remembers that Alenko was never impelled, however, even if people like him were never valued by the glorious Systems Alliance. Miranda glances at the commander - her eyes are only slightly wider than usual and her lips are parted in what looks like mild surprise. Does she actually remember him? He certainly remembers her, from the way he’s boring into her with his eyes.

Delan makes his exit, grumbling all the while, and Alenko makes his way to the commander, his every step steady and his eyes still on her and her alone. He stops just in front of her, close enough for him to have to tilt his head a little to look at her face as he looks her over. Without a word, he raises his arms and wraps them around Shepard’s shoulders, pulling her against him in a hug that she doesn’t respond to right away. She bends slightly to rest her chin on his shoulder and her arms stay loose at her sides for a moment before slowly going to his back, tentatively returning the hug. That’s all Miranda sees before she turns away, uncomfortable with this turn of events.

“I thought you were dead, Shepard,” she hears Alenko breathe. “We all did.”

“That’s the popular opinion,” Shepard replies just as quietly. Miranda looks at them again when she hears the crunch of leaves as they separate. “How’ve you been? You look good.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Alenko asks, seeming unsatisfied. “You show up after two years and just act like nothing happened?”

“It’s not like I did it on purpose."

“Why didn’t you contact the Alliance? Why didn’t you tell anyone you were alive?”

“Probably because up until a few months ago, I was basically dead,” Shepard says, exhaustion showing in her voice. “I spent the last two years in a coma while Cerberus rebuilt me.”

Alenko takes a step back. “You’re with Cerberus now,” he says in a quiet shock, looking from the commander to Miranda, his eyes not missing the logo on her chest. He glances at Garrus and shakes his head. “Garrus, too. I can’t believe the reports were right.”

“Reports?” Garrus says. “You mean you knew?”

“Alliance intel thought Cerberus might be behind the missing colonies,” he says shortly. “I got a tip this colony might be the next one to get hit.”

"Figures," Miranda says with a smirk. "Always easy to blame a known enemy rather than admit you have no idea what you’re dealing with."

“I’m not with Cerberus, they’re just helping me,” Shepard says firmly, ignoring her. “We just wanna save the colonists. Cerberus is not the enemy right now, the Collectors are.”

“Do you really believe that?” Alenko asks, anger clear in his voice and in his clenched fists. “Or is that just what Cerberus wants you to think?”

“You can’t be serious.” Shepard almost laughs. “They don’t control me, Kaidan, I chose to do this.”

“I wanna believe you, Shepard. Just like I wanted to believe the rumors that you were alive.” Alenko glares at Miranda and she gives him an impassive expression in return. “But, I _never_ expected something like this. You turned your back on everything we believed in. You betrayed the Alliance!” Of course he'd feel that way. Typical Alliance attitude. He’s too hung up on this childish feud to even listen.

Shepard actually does laugh this time. “Are you _kidding?_ This isn’t about _loyalty!_ This isn’t even about the Alliance or Cerberus, this is about real people who need help.”

“Cerberus has crossed the line on multiple occasions, you can’t trust them.”

“I don’t. I am so far from trusting them, believe me, but at least they’re _doing_ something,” Shepard bites out and Alenko scowls - he must know what she’s implying. Even Miranda had been surprised that the upright Alliance had been and are continuing to ignore the disappearing colonies. Seems politically unwise.

Shepard goes on, stepping into his space, “Kaidan, you know me. I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’t a thousand percent sure it was the right thing.”

“I knew the Shepard that went down with the ship two years ago,” Alenko breathes, resigned as he backs away again. “The one who’d have _never_ worked with Cerberus. I don’t know  _who_ you are now.”

The commander draws back, shoulders dropping slightly. Garrus speaks up in her stead, “Damn it, Kaidan! You’re so focused on Cerberus that you’re ignoring the real threat!”

“He’s right,” Shepard says, regaining her stance. “You’re letting how you feel get in the way of the facts.”

“Maybe,” Alenko says lowly, eyes only on the commander. “Or maybe you feel like you owe Cerberus for saving your life.”

“You’ve changed,” he goes on, shaking his head. “But, I still know where my loyalties are.” Shepard says nothing as he turns to leave. He starts to go before halting for a moment and half-turning to her.

“Be careful,” he mutters, not quite looking at the commander as he does. He finally walks away after that, head bowed and shoulders slack. Miranda watches him go, not surprised in the slightest. Systems Alliance soldiers aren’t too difficult to bring into the fold, but that man in particular has always been staunch. Perhaps he’s been promoted to the Alliance’s golden boy after their star commander got herself spaced. Bit of a downgrade, if you ask her.

Garrus takes a few steps to Shepard’s side, bending to peer at her face and placing a gentle talon on her shoulder for the second time today. “Let’s head out.” Shepard turns to him and eventually nods, though Miranda can’t quite see her expression from where she’s standing. The commander puts a hand to the communicator in her ear, voice steady despite her slouching form.

“Joker, send the shuttle to pick us up. I’ve had enough of this colony.”

 

* * *

 

In the shuttle, Shepard is quiet, looking out the window with her eyebrows furrowed and a deep frown sitting on her face. Miranda watches from her seat across from her, wondering if she’s having some sort of emotional reaction to what Alenko had said. If so, she doesn’t really know what to do with that. She’s never been a shoulder to cry on, and she doesn’t know what she should be doing or saying. God, she hopes Shepard doesn’t want to cry.

She should talk to her. It’s going to be a while until they get to the Normandy and she’ll be swamped with work when they do. She hasn’t worked up the nerve to apologize for the L3 incident yet, so she’s going to have to pick up the slack and be...emotionally available. Miranda leans over slightly and moves to touch the commander before thinking better of it and returning her hand to her lap.

“Commander?” Shepard jumps a little and turns to her, looking like she’s been pulled right out of a deep reverie. “Are you alright?”

Shepard stares at her for a moment, mouth slightly open. Miranda’s already regretting this.

“I’m trying to remember something,” Shepard finally says, voice thoughtful.

“Did you not recognize that man?”

“No, I did. Sort of. Joker’s reference sheet helped.” The commander smiles a bit at the mention of Moreau’s gift. “But, I feel like there was more to it.”

“More how?” Garrus asks, looking up from fiddling with his gun to join in the discussion.

Shepard shakes her head. “I don’t know. When he hugged me, I felt like...I’d been there before? But I felt...bad. Like I shouldn’t be there, I shouldn’t be that close to him.”

“Regulations, maybe?” Miranda suggests. “The two of you did work together.”

Garrus nods. “Yeah, it’s probably just left-over restraint from your Alliance days.”

Shepard shrugs with her face. “That sounds _almost_ right. Maybe.” She lets out a groan and rubs at her scalp through her thick hair. “I know it’s there, hiding from me, I just can’t--” She cuts herself off with a loud gasp, her hand going to her mouth and her eyes popping wide.

“Uh, Shepard?” Garrus says warily, one arm out in case she collapses or something. Miranda’s just staring back at her, really hoping her brain hasn’t short circuited. “You okay?”

“Oh my god,” Shepard breathes through her fingers, face twisting in shock and horror. “Oh my god, we had sex.”

“Wait, what?” Garrus draws back. The commander’s wild eyes go to him and she nods fiercely.

“Me! Kaidan! We had sex, oh my _god!_ ” Shepard cries, both her hands going to the sides of her head. She screws her eyes shut, groaning, “Oh no, I’m remembering everything all at once, stop, stop, stop, _stop!_ ”

“Well,” Miranda says shortly. “I suppose that mystery’s solved then.” Shepard opens her eyes to look at her incredulously.

“No, it’s not! If anything it’s making even _less_ sense!” she shakes her head again, seeming at a loss. “Why would I do that? Why would I sleep with _Kaidan?_ ”

“He was alright.” Miranda shrugs. "Not too bad-looking."

“That’s not the point,” Shepard presses. “I mean, sure, he’s cute, but he’s not _break regulations and risk my entire career_ cute! Oh, I’m gonna be sick.”

“Alright, calm down, it’s in the past,” Garrus says idly, reaching over to awkwardly pat her knee. Shepard groans in what looks like abject woe and leans over, covering her face with her hands. Miranda has the good grace not to roll her eyes. Being civil is more annoying than she bargained for.

 

* * *

 

_”Rumor has it that you were in a pretty serious relationship up until recently--”_

_“Recently? Check your sources, T’reva, you’re getting sloppy,”_ the commander jokes easily, gaining a few titters from the crowd and the Asari host.

_“Alright, how long ago was it, then?”_

_“Longer than I care to remember. I’ve been unattached for a while.”_ Shepard places an elbow on the armrest of her chair and gives the host with a look that couldn’t be more of a come-on if she tore off her military issued dress blues live on Citadel TV. _“Totally fancy-free. Speaking of which, you never told me if you were single.”_

The audience laughs and squeals and Shepard flashes that same platinum smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let it be known that this is NOT an anti-Kaidan fic. I adore Kaidan and I hope my writing in Miranda's POV doesn't make people think I dislike him the way she does. She's super loyal to Cerberus at this point, so I think she'd have a negative opinion of all Alliance peeps.  
>   
> Also, I kinda messed up in the tagging, the Shenko present in this fic is NOT a relationship, and it never was. It's also not the relationship that's alluded to in the above interview. They definitely did the do, but it didn't go farther than that. It's complicated, but I'll get into it soon. Thanks for reading!


	5. Making Nice Phase 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm almost halfway. The pressure's on now oh boy oh boy

Miranda sighs, rubbing at her eyes - she really should be asleep. Her body is ready to jump into that bed and not be disturbed for at least four hours, but her mind is too active to even consider it. She’s been watching more of Shepard’s old interviews to tire her out, but all they’re doing is reminding her of the woman Miranda hadn’t managed to bring back.

She checks for any reports from Illium - nothing. That could be a good or bad sign, and she doesn't like the uncertainty, so she sends one of her contacts a message asking for an update. She leans back on her chair and combs a hand through her bangs, letting out another sigh. She might as well go down to the shuttle bay and check on some requisitions, since she's awake. She leaves her office and walks through the empty crew deck, heels tapping on the metal floors sharply. She does wish she had a normal sleep schedule, but she can’t help but enjoy being awake during the night cycle. It’s so quiet and still, you almost couldn’t tell she was on a warship. If she closes her eyes, she can pretend she’s on the Minuteman again, working with people as intelligent and dedicated as she is instead of murderers, mercenaries, and a thief.

Suffice it to say, she does not entirely approve of the people Shepard’s been told to recruit. She’d been even less pleased to find that the woman had been successful in bringing them all into the fold, stories of the commander’s magnetic personality being no exaggeration.

Well, at least there’s a better chance of taking down the Collectors with an Asari Justicar and a Krogan super soldier. She just hopes this ragtag team doesn’t kill each other before they even get to the Omega 4 Relay. Miranda steps onto the elevator, going to press the button to the shuttle bay when a round of rapid footsteps catch her attention.  

The drell, Thane, races into the elevator, muttering, “Excuse me,” before punching the button at the top of the list.

“Why are you going to the commander’s quarters?” Miranda asks, curiosity getting the better of her. Suspicion isn’t far behind, seeing as an expert assassin going to somebody’s room in a rush is more than a little unusual.

Thane shuffles a little on his feet, looking unsure. “I’m not certain I can say.”

“ _I can explain, Operative Lawson._ ” EDI’s voice rings out in the elevator shaft. “ _I called Mr. Krios to assist the commander. He isn’t doing anything of suspect._ ”

“Assist the commander with what?” Miranda asks, not quite satisfied. Neither Thane nor EDI answer, and the elevator doors spring open soon after. Thane dashes to the locked doors, bypassing the lock with practiced ease. The door opens and Thane enters, striding in like he's done it a million times. Miranda follows, walking into the commander’s quarters before the doors can close on her.

Miranda feels it before she sees it, the air suddenly becoming heavy and tinged with a familiar sharpness that shouldn’t be this palpable in the room. She smells eezo and hears the telltale hum of mass effect fields before she walks further into the room and finally finds the source.

Shepard lies writhing on the bed, forehead dripping with sweat and her face contorted in pain. Her whole body is lined with a blue light, her biotics spiking in spiraling waves of power. Her blanket, pillows, and both nightstands float around the room, even the couch is swaying a few feet off the floor.

Miranda watches on in confusion, feeling her own biotics reacting to the power and her hair rising in the static. Thane rushes to the commander’s side, his green skin giving off a blue glow. He places a knee on the bed and leans over, his hand reaching for her shoulder.

“Shepard. Shepard, wake up,” he says in a soft yet urgent voice, giving her a gentle shake. “You’re having a nightmare. You need to wake up.”

A moment later, Miranda feels the air get lighter and the flying objects drop to the ground with a clatter. Shepard’s eyes flutter open and she stares at Thane for a full minute, looking disoriented, before she blinks and sits up in a flash.

Shepard looks about the room, noting the strewn about pillows, broken nightstands, and upended couch. Her eyes land on Miranda for a moment before she covers her face with her hands with a groan. Thane pats her shoulder consolingly and Miranda turns on her heel and leaves without a word.

Miranda crosses her arms tightly as the elevator takes her down to the shuttle bay. She barely remembers why she wanted to go there.

“EDI?”

“ _Yes, Operative Lawson?_ ”

“How long has this been happening?" 

The AI takes a second longer than necessary to answer. _"Tonight would make it approximately two weeks._ ”

“Shit,” Miranda breathes. How could she not have noticed? Has this been affecting any of the missions? Miranda hasn’t been picked to go along with the commander for some time, she has no idea if this has been making her less efficient in some way. And it’s not as if any of the people Shepard’s brought into the fold would tell her.

Shit.

 

* * *

 

“EDI, where can I find the commander?”

“ _I believe she is in the ship’s main battery, Operative Lawson._ ”

“Thank you,” Miranda says shortly before marching off in that direction. It’s been two days since the incident in the commander’s quarters, but she needed that time to prepare. She hates to admit that she had to work up the nerve to talk to Shepard, but it was either that or get Jacob to do it, and she doesn’t think she could handle the teasing. No, it’s fine, she can handle this.

Miranda stops at the entrance of the main battery and just stares at it for a moment. She takes a deep, steadying breath, adopts her usual expression of cold indifference and opens the door. Shepard is sitting on a crate to the right of the room, laughing while Garrus talks, his mandibles quivering in his own chuckles. They both turn when she walks in, looking equally surprised to see her there.

“Miranda.” Garrus nods at her. She nods back and faces the commander directly.

“Commander, may I have a word?” she asks in an even voice, thankfully. Shepard blinks at her but stands and moves to follow her outside, waving goodbye to Garrus as she goes. Once the door closes behind them, Miranda goes right to it.

“You’re having trouble with your biotics,” she says, point-blank. “This can’t continue.”

Shepard sighs. “This is about the other night, isn’t it? Look, you don't have to worry. Thane says he doesn't mind and I'll figure it out--”

“This mission can't wait for you to figure it out," Miranda interjects. "I suggest you start training your biotics immediately.”

“Excuse me?”

“Training. You need to learn how to control your powers or you’ll get in the way of the mission’s success. I offer my services--”

“Whoa, whoa, hang on.” Shepard brings her hands up to stop her, face hard. “You don’t tell me what I need. I don’t _need_ training and I especially don’t need _your_ help. It’s your fault this is even happening!”

“I admit that the new implant is affecting you,” Miranda concedes. Does that count as an apology? Probably. “But, that’s why I want to help. I can teach you how to get a hold of your biotics.”

“Why does it have to be you?” Shepard asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the railing behind her. “Why not Jacob? Or the three other biotics we have on the team?”

Miranda shrugs. “It doesn’t have to be me. You can ask Jacob, or even Jack, if you don’t particularly value your life.”

“Jack is an excellent biotic.”

“She’s undisciplined.”

“You mean damaged.”

“I mean erratic. If you want to learn how to destroy your enemies with no regard for safety or restraint, then, fine, learn from Jack,” Miranda says, staring up at the commander evenly. “I honestly don’t care who you work with, you just need to work. For the sake of this mission, you can’t afford to not be at your absolute best.”

Shepard gives her a long stare, blue eyes boring into her. They no longer have the red glow of the cybernetic implants, but they're intimidating nonetheless. Miranda stands her ground, staring right back, even if she has the urge to look away. The commander’s lips curve into a slow smile and she tilts her head in a manner eerily reminiscent of the Shepard who charmed and enchanted the public in talk shows, though not quite as flashy.

“Okay,” she says simply.

Miranda blinks. “Okay?”

“Okay. You’re right. I need to get better.” She steps away from the railing, causing her to be a bit closer to Miranda than completely necessary. “But, I do want to ask Jack to help me.”

“Fine.” Miranda will have to make sure the ship’s foundations are prepared for the chaos that would invite.

“Not just her, though,” Shepard says, still wearing that amused smile. “I’ll ask Samara, too.”

“Two teachers?” Sounds a bit cluttered.

“Nope,” Shepard points at her. “Three.”

Miranda looks from her finger back up to her face. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why not? A developing mind needs balance.”

“This isn’t balance, this is putting deliberate strain on yourself.”

“Maybe, but I can’t learn just one thing,” Shepard explains. “Jack’s all about power, Samara’s a sort of scary zen, and you’re about control. I need a little of all of it if I’m going to be my _absolute best._ ”

Miranda frowns, not liking having her own words used against her. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Does that mean you won't do it?”

“No, I’ll do it.” Miranda looks away from Shepard’s grin. “But, I won’t like it.”

“I’m okay with that.”

 

* * *

 

"So." Jacob strolls into her office, already wearing a smug smile. 

Miranda groans from behind her computer. "Who told you?"

"Don't worry about it. When do you start?"

"Later today, not that it's any of your business."

"Good."

"She was going to ask you, you know."

"And I'm sure your winning personality convinced her otherwise."

"Hilarious."

"Seriously, though, I'm proud of you. You're really trying."

"I said I would, didn't I?" Still no new messages from Illium. Odd. It might be nothing, but Miranda sends a message to Lanteia, just in case.

"Still. Good work."

"You congratulating me for having a successful interaction with another person isn't as encouraging as you think."

"Probably not. Just don't bail on her at the last-minute. I know how nervous you get."

"Get out."

 

* * *

 

 _”--you have to tell us_ something!” the reporter presses, camera shaking as it follows Shepard’s quick pace.

 _“No, I don’t. Leave me alone,”_ Shepard mutters, eyes avoiding both the reporter and the camera. She walks faster, but the camera drone doesn’t relent, speeding up to stay with her.

_“The Skyllian Blitz was less than a week ago, and the Alliance isn’t giving us any details--”_

_“Back off!”_ Shepard snaps, long ponytail whipping back as she turns to the reporter, eyes exhausted but bright with fury. _“Go talk to somebody else, you’re not getting shit from me.”_

_“But, the public needs to--”_

_“Lo!”_ someone calls out offscreen. Shepard looks in the direction of the voice and immediately races out of the shot. The camera turns to watch as she runs to someone waving to her from a rental car. The camera zooms in tight as Shepard jumps on board and it gets a good shot of the driver and the thick beard on their sharp face as they shoot the reporter a glare. The footage cuts off as the car flies away.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting a little better at the whole human interaction thing, that girl. Still, she's got a long way to go before she's ready to save anyone. But, I believe...Miranda can save the world.
> 
> Horrible jokes aside, thanks for reading! (BTW in case it's not clear, the above is a little of what happened shortly after the Skyllian Blitz. Lo Shepard (yay we got her first name) did not adjust very well, but that'll be expanded on in another chapter)


	6. Unpleasant Position

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving forward! ALSO, I edited some of the older chapters to include small mentions of Oriana. I completely forgot about her for a hot minute and that's ridic because of course Miranda would be thinking about her and checking on her periodically. So, yeah, fixed.

 

“Stay relaxed. You’re too stiff.”

“I'm trying."

“Imagine the feather is a child, if that helps.”

“ _What?_ ” Shepard loses focus and the biotic energy surrounding the feather spikes through it, tearing pieces off its delicate body. “Shit.”

“And now the child is missing a limb. Do it again,” Miranda says idly, taking another feather from the bag on her bed and making it fly to the commander with her own biotics. She only lets go when Shepard has a hold on it, her face tight as she keeps the feather floating in the air without damaging it.

They’ve been at it for hours now.  Their regular training sessions have been going on for about a week and Miranda’s struggling not to lose her patience. Destroyed feathers litter the floor of her bedroom and Shepard doesn’t seem to be getting any better. The commander sits on the couch with one hand raised and glowing a brighter blue than the rest of her while the other grips at her knee, the fabric of her Cerberus issue pants bunching up in her fist. She’s too tense, too focused on forcing this to work when she should be more calm. The more effort she’s putting into keeping the feather up, the more it shakes and trembles in the mass effect field that’s only inches from ripping it apart.

It shouldn’t be this hard. The commander never seems to struggle nearly this much with Samara or Jack. Miranda’s been monitoring the sessions occasionally, going down to the engineering floor to look out the window to watch the commander biotically destroy empty storage crates with Jack and finding some excuse to go to the Starboard Observation to find her and Samara sitting cross-legged on the floor, the two of them serene and pulsating with blue light.

Maybe it’s Miranda’s fault. She hasn’t exactly been making herself open to the commander, despite her insisting otherwise to Jacob. Shepard reports to her office, Miranda leads her to the adjoining bedroom, and they work. None of Samara’s soft encouragements or Jack’s congratulatory punches to the shoulder when the commander gets something right.

Well, Miranda _would_ say something nice if the woman showed any progress. It’s been nothing but mistakes and zero signs of improvement. Miranda sighs when another feather meets its untimely end and falls limply to the floor.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Shepard breathes, brushing her overlong bangs off her forehead. “Why can’t I get this?”

“What are you thinking about when you’re keeping the feather up?” Miranda asks.

Shepard shrugs. “I don’t know. Keeping it there? Trying not to mess up again.”

“There’s your problem. You’re focusing so much on not failing that you have no room to visualize success. And you’re still too stiff, you need to loosen up.”

“How, though?” Shepard asks, slouching in her seat. “I can’t be focused on control without getting tense.”

“Control isn’t about being tight and rigid, not always,” Miranda explains. “It’s about having the confidence to command your powers to do what you need them to do.” She stands up from her seat on the bed and raises a hand to the remaining intact feathers. They rise out of the bag and float toward her, tinged in blue and unharmed. Miranda breathes evenly, making the feathers circle the two of them and covering the room in blue light. Shepard watches intently, eyes on the unscathed feathers and then on Miranda, hopefully noting her relaxed posture.

“Do you see?” Miranda says softly in the hum of her biotics, casually making the feathers twirl around them. “Loose and steady. This is control.”

Shepard stares up at her, seeming transfixed, before she blinks herself back to life and nods.

A light flashes in the corner of Miranda’s eye, followed by a soft beeping and she whips her head toward it, the feathers starting to quiver slightly in her distraction. She returns the feathers promptly, guiding them safely back into the bag before turning to Shepard.

“That’s it for today, you’re dismissed,” she says quickly, marching to the door and opening it for her to leave. Shepard spares Miranda a curious glance, but she leaves without a word, thankfully.

Miranda races to her computer, opens the message that just arrived from Lanteia, and reads it quickly, then reads it again, and again. Her stomach twists and her heart pounds in her chest. The room sways just a little before she realizes she hasn’t taken a breath in almost a minute. She brings a trembling hand to her face and takes a quivering breath, mind going a mile a minute.

He’s found her. He’s found Oriana, he’s going to take her. All the years Miranda’s spent keeping her safe and away from him, and he’s going to show up and hurt her little sister just like he’s hurt her.

No. No, it’s not too late. He’s close, but he hasn’t gotten to her, not yet. Miranda hastily types out a message with shaking, imprecise fingers and sends it. She only waits for another three agonizing minutes before she gets a reply from Lanteia, agreeing to a meeting on Illium. Miranda confirms and takes a moment to collect herself, leaning over her desk on unsteady arms and head bowed low as she manages to take even breaths.

There’s still time. She can still take Oriana and her family out of Illium and keep her safe. She’ll make sure of it personally. But she can’t do it alone.

 

* * *

 

Miranda waits at her desk stiffly, her arms folded in front of her and her posture rigid in a semblance of calm. Under her desk, however, her leg bounces, shoe tapping on the floor nervously.

She’d called Shepard to her office just five minutes before, her voice steady and hopefully not giving away anything. The commander agreed, albeit with only a moment’s hesitation, and said she’d be here in a minute. It’s already been four minutes longer than that, and Miranda knows she’s quibbling, but her leg would stop bouncing, what little food she’d had earlier is sitting in her stomach like lead, and the commander isn’t _here yet_.

She’s saved from having to go get her when the door finally opens and Shepard walks into the room with her body half-turned, hand up and waving back to who looks like Engineer Daniels as she goes - she must’ve stopped to talk on her way here. Miranda tries to stave off the irritation by reminding herself that the commander doesn’t know what’s going on yet. It’s harder to manage it when Shepard finally faces her and gives her a friendly smile, as if Miranda hasn’t been waiting in a black hole of her own anxiety for what feels like hours.

“You wanted to see me?” Shepard says, standing casually with her hands in her pockets. Miranda wills her leg to be still, but stays behind her desk, using it as a last line of protection and something to steady herself with.

“Shepard,” she says, not quite able to keep her voice neutral. “I find myself in the unpleasant position of asking for your help.”

 

* * *

 

“Welcome to Nos Astra, Commander Shepard,” an Asari says cordially as they two of them approach, the armed mechs standing behind her not quite giving off the same feeling. “We’ve been instructed to waive all docking and administration fees for your visit.”

“By who?” Shepard asks, evidently as suspicious as Miranda is.

“The order came from Liara T’Soni, who paid all fees on your behalf." The Asari raises her arm and looks down at the omni-tool that appears around it, flicking through messages as she speaks. “She’s also asked that I direct you to speak with her at your convenience.”

Liara T’Soni, Miranda remembers that name. The Asari that worked with Shepard on the first Normandy. The same Asari who found Shepard’s lifeless corpse and handed it over to Cerberus. Miranda gives the commander a sidelong glance - The glowing scars that once marred her face have all but completely faded, leaving only faint lines on her cheek and forehead. She still looks exhausted, but focused, her posture rigid and very much like the Shepard of old. She almost wants her to go see Liara, just for an opportunity to show off her handiwork. Miranda remembers Liara's doubts that the Lazarus project would succeed and wouldn't mind rubbing a mostly-functional, but fully alive, Commander Shepard in her blue face.

But, she can't, not right now. Every minute they waste allows that man to get closer to Oriana, and Miranda can’t even bear the thought of it.

"Liara?" Shepard repeats, her expression not quite as confused as it usually is when someone mentions an old crew member. There's definite recognition there, Miranda realizes with an uncharacteristic amount of dread.

She bites it back and asks, “Do you want to go to her? We have some time." She’s ready to go see Lanteia right now and get this done, but if the commander wants to visit an old friend, she can't do much to stop her.

“No. I can do that later,” Shepard says firmly. She turns to Miranda and nods. “Right now, I’m helping you. Let’s get to it.” Miranda has to breathe around the rush of relief that threatens to burst through her chest.

They meet Lanteia quickly and she gives them the rundown, Miranda's heart lodged in her throat the whole time. Thankfully, Oriana is alright and Niket is going to keep her safe. Her shoulders only relax marginally at the news. The Eclipse mercenaries are an unwelcome surprise, but nothing she can’t handle.

“Who’s Niket?” Shepard asks.

“He’s a friend,” Miranda answers quickly. “He and I go back a long way.”

“Okay, cool. What can you tell us about the mercs?” she asks, turning to Lanteia.

“I've confirmed that they’re Eclipse and that they’re working for the organization Ms. Lawson warned us about,” Lanteia replies. “I could try to alert the authorities, but so far, they’ve done nothing illegal.”

“You made the right decision,” Miranda says before glancing at Shepard. “We can handle this ourselves.”

“Sure, but can Niket handle it?” Shepard asks. “Do you wanna give him any backup?”

“Niket can take care of himself. Besides, any armed backup just draws more attention to him.” Miranda directs her attention to Lanteia again. “We’ll follow Niket’s suggestion. Shepard and I will take the car to keep their eyes on us. Have Niket escort the family to the shuttle and give him full access to the family’s itinerary, just to be safe.”

“Yes, Ms. Lawson.” Lanteia nods.

“So, we’re gonna get shot down by Eclipse while your sister gets to safety?” Shepard asks, tone dry. “Gotta say, I’m not loving this plan.”

“Eclipse will be under orders to take my sister alive,” Miranda says, certain. “They won’t risk anything that could kill us.”

Shepard hums, not looking entirely convinced. “Alright, if you say so. Ready when you are.” Miranda nods to Lanteia in thanks and makes her way out of the bar, Shepard walking by her side the whole way. She’s once again struck by how glad she is that the commander decided to keep this between them - Miranda’s not even sure she’d be comfortable having Jacob tangled up in her father’s machinations.

“Thank you, Shepard,” she breathes before she can stop herself. She turns to see the commander looking back at her, dark eyebrows raised slightly. “I appreciate this. Really.”

Shepard is quiet for a moment before she replies, albeit a little awkwardly, “Don’t thank me, yet. We’ve still got mercs to mow through.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Miranda says confidently. “I'll admit I hadn’t planned on Eclipse. But they never planned on you.”

 

* * *

 

“ _Major Mercy is at it again!”_

 _“Not surprised in the slightest,”_ the commander says with a laugh. _“What do they have to say about me now?”_

 _“According to Mercy,”_ the Salarian host reads from her datapad. _“You don’t deserve to be praised as an Alliance celebrity.”_

_“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”_

_“They’re accusing you of having no family values.”_ Someone offscreen cries out in protest and the host has to raise her hands to silence the discontented audience. _“They say that you’re not fit to protect the people when you don’t care about your own family._

_"That seems like a stretch," Shepard says, face curious. "I didn't realize those two factors were so connected."_

_"They are to Mercy. They seem quite vehement, going as far as citing how you decided to not be present for your grandmother’s funeral.”_

A hush falls in the crowd. Shepard goes stiff, eyes somewhat narrow and mouth going into a hard line.

 _“They also mentioned you not_ _coming to the Shepard family reunion,”_ the host goes on, lowering the datapad to look at her. _“The source of a fair amount of gossip last week.”_

 _“Did they, now?”_ Shepard asks in a dangerous voice Miranda’s never heard her use, much less on television. The commander’s posture relaxes and she lets out a short laugh. _“I’d like to know where Major Mercy’s getting their information.”_

_“Is there any truth to their claims?”_

_“Absolutely not,”_ Shepard says with a dismissive wave of her hand. _“I love my family and we’re very close. I couldn’t go to the reunion because I had a prior engagement that I couldn’t move. And if Mercy would do_ _a little research they’d know I was on tour on the day of my grandmother’s funeral.”_

 _“They do mention that, actually,”_ the host nods at the datapad. _“They say you could’ve taken leave for a day.”_

 _“Obviously they don’t know how shore leave works,”_ Shepard says tightly. _“My family is very important to me and it’s very petty for Mercy to go after my relationship with them.”_

 _“Perhaps. There’s also this bit right here,”_ the host places the segment of the article on the screen at the back of the stage with a flick of her wrist. _“Mercy very heavily implies that you’re not the only child we’ve all believed you were.”_

_“I never said I was.”_

_“You’ve never mentioned a sibling.”_

_“It was never relevant.”_

_“Yes, but it seems odd,”_ the host leans over, needling Shepard with her large eyes, _“never talking about a sibling, not even in passing...”_ The commander smiles, but it’s sharper, angrier. She leans an elbow on the arm of her chair and runs a hand through her immaculate hair, somehow making it look better as she tousles it.

 _“Clearly Major Mercy has boundary issues,”_ she says wryly. _“So, I’d actually prefer not to talk about my family anymore. I want to avoid giving them more ammunition.”_

_“Not even to satisfy our curious audience? I’m sure they’d love to know--”_

_"No.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be going into the loyalty mission more in the next chapter, just had to cut it into two parts. The title of this chapter is unintentionally suggestive. Thanks for reading!


	7. Liberal Interpretation of Security Protocol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, this is a long one. I apologize in advance. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to comment and leave kudos! I really appreciate your feedback and look forward to more!

The mission goes from bad to worse. Miranda’s head is still spinning as she marches to the elevator, Shepard not far behind. Her chest feels tight and painful and she’s so disappointed and _angry_ , she feels her biotics buzzing under her skin the way they haven’t in years. Shepard is silent, moving to the elevator’s control panel to get them out of the docks.

“I can’t believe Niket sold me out,” Miranda says, breaking the heavy silence that was making her head throb. “I didn’t even see it coming.” Her voice is faint, disbelieving, and she can’t find the energy to even attempt to feign indifference. It wouldn’t matter anyway, Shepard already heard the way her voice wavered when she demanded an explanation from Niket, a reason, any reason he’d betray her after all they’ve been through. She already saw the way Miranda’s eyes widened when that Asari mercenary shot him in the back and he fell, limp and lifeless right in front of her. The way Miranda’s masterful control broke when she lifted the merc in the air, glowing bright blue and seething with fury as she growled, “ _You’ll die for that, bitch!_ ”

Miranda doesn’t notice that Shepard’s moved until she’s right next to her, reaching for her arm. The commander's hand makes contact and a sharp pain stabs through her, making Miranda hiss and pull away. She looks at her shoulder and sees a tear in her suit, dark blood already falling freely down her arm.

Damn. She’d forgotten that the mercenary got a lucky shot. It’s only a graze, but it’s deep and stinging more strongly now that the shock and adrenaline are starting to subside. Shepard reaches for her again, frowning when Miranda leans away. “You’re hurt."

“It’s fine,” Miranda snaps, covering the wound with her hand. “The bullet barely touched me. And I’m already healing.”

Shepard presses her lips together and backs off, taking a couple steps away from her and resuming her silence. Miranda can’t take it, the buzzing in her head and the ache in her shoulder making her teeth grind.

“Why didn’t you let me kill him?” she bites out, glaring at the commander. “I could’ve handled that. He didn’t have to get gunned down by that damned Asari, I should’ve taken him out myself!”

Shepard sighs through her nose, her armor shifting as she lowers her shoulders. “You still cared about him. Even if he betrayed you. You would’ve regretted it.”

“How the hell do you know what I’d regret?” Miranda's hand tightens, squeezing her wounded shoulder to near blinding pain. Blood rolls down her arm and drips to the floor but neither of them pay any attention to it. She feels on edge, agitated in a way she hasn’t in years. Her heart pounds in her ears and she’s balancing on the edge of screaming or sobbing and neither option seems wise in this situation, so she settles with rage, jaw set so tight her teeth ache and eyes blazing up at Shepard, the barest hint of biotics humming in her ears.

Shepard turns to her, looks at her patiently. “I don’t know. Was I wrong?”

Miranda stills, the noise in her brain dimming only slightly. The space left behind is replaced with memories of laughter and games. Of childhood secrets and dreams. Inside jokes and nicknames.

_Miri._

“No,” Miranda breathes, barely audible over the sounds of the elevator. She drops her hand from her shoulder, the fabric of her gloves stained red. The wound barely stings anymore. “I did care about him. And my father knew it. He used that against me.”

Shepard only looks at her, no pity or acceptance in her face. Miranda can’t help but keep wanting to fill the silence.

“It’s always been like this,” she says, not sure how comfortable she is even talking about this, but she can’t bring herself to stop now that she’s started. “My father gave me everything I wanted, but there was always a hook, an angle for his long-term plan. I threw away everything he ever gave me when I ran. Except Niket. Weakness on my part.”

“It’s not weakness to need people,” Shepard murmurs. Miranda isn’t certain how the commander knows to speak softly now, but she’s grateful. “You can’t throw away everything you care about just to be safe.”

“If I had, this never would’ve happened.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Shepard says simply. Miranda isn’t quite as irritated with that non-answer as she probably should be. “Any other old friends your father might use against you?”

Miranda shakes her head. “I cut ties with everyone else. Anyone I’m close to now works for Cerberus. Or you.” Miranda doesn’t fool herself into thinking any of the people the commander has been bringing onto the Normandy are loyal to the advancement of humanity. “My father’s powerful, but he won’t cross the Illusive Man.”

Shepard nods and looks straight ahead. Miranda brushes back the bangs that’d gotten tousled in her anger. Her heartbeat is not quite back to its normal rate and her fingers still tremble, but she doesn’t feel like she’s going to have a meltdown at any moment, so it’s acceptable.

“You did it, though,” Shepard says suddenly, looking at Miranda with raised eyebrows. “You saved Oriana. You did it.”

Miranda blinks, letting it sink in. A weight she’d forgotten was even there starts to lift off her shoulders and she feels like she hasn’t been breathing correctly until this moment. She lets out a long-held breath and feels herself smile.

“You’re right. I did. Thank you.”

They reach their designated floor and Miranda walks out steadily, feeling more like herself. She scans the area quickly and only sees civilians, nothing out of the ordinary.

“No sign of Eclipse,” she says to Shepard, her voice even and back to its normal volume. “Looks like we’re in the clear.” Miranda gives the area another glance and freezes when she sees her.

Oriana. She’s got her back to her, but Miranda is certain. She feels a swelling in her chest that makes it a bit hard to take a breath, but it isn’t painful. She smiles at her sister’s back and can’t bring herself to look away.

“There she is,” she says in a voice that betrays the tenderness she feels. “She’s safe. With her family.” The family that can stay with her. The ones who can keep her happy and make sure she grows up to be the wonderful woman Miranda knows she will be. It hurts to look at them, knowing there’s no room for her, but she can deal with it. She can handle never getting to know her little sister if it means making sure she’s safe.

The longer Miranda stares at the back of Oriana’s head, however, the less she believes that. She allows herself to look for just a little while longer before directing her gaze to the floor - she doesn’t have the right to want any more than what she has. Her life is too dangerous for these sort of attachments. Oriana is safe. The job is over.

“Come on, we should go,” she says almost as firmly as she wants. She sees Shepard turn to her from the corner of her eye and wills her own expression to stay neutral.

“Don’t you wanna talk to her?” Shepard asks. Miranda briefly wonders if the commander was always this perceptive or if it was something that accidentally got thrown in during surgery.

“It’s not about what I want, it’s about what’s right for her,” Miranda says automatically. “She’s got a family. A life. The less she knows about me, the better.”

“It’s not like you have to give her your résumé. Just go say hi.”

“But--”

“Oh, come on, Miranda, you know you want to,” Shepard says with a laugh that softens her whole face. “The kid has a big sister who loves her. Would it really be so bad for her to know that?”

Miranda deflates, her face feeling more open than she should allow it to be. Shepard gives her what looks like an encouraging smile and jerks her head in Oriana’s direction.

“Go. I’ll be here.” After a long moment, Miranda nods, her face stretching in her own smile. She turns and starts walking before her anxiety catches up with her and forces her to stop. Oriana’s facing her now. She’s talking to her parents, but Miranda barely notices them. Her eyes are on Oriana alone and she’s dangerously close to weeping.

She’s so beautiful. She doesn’t look a thing like Miranda and it doesn't take away from her beauty in the slightest. Her face is softer, more open, and her posture is more relaxed than Miranda’s even capable of. Her hair is short and lovely, her smile is sweet and amazing, and her eyes are absolutely stunning when they notice Miranda’s approach and meet hers dead-on.

Miranda stops, struck by the eye-contact. She looks away, starting to doubt herself all over again. She almost moves to turn on her heel and run, but she can’t bear to, not when she’s so close. She looks up again and Oriana is still looking at her, something almost like recognition in her gorgeous eyes. It pushes Miranda into action, heels clicking onto the ground firmly as she puts one foot in front of the other, eyes still only on her sister as she finally comes to a stop in front of her.

Oriana looks at her curiously, probably wondering what this strange woman in a catsuit wants with her. Miranda can’t help but stare, she’s never been so close to her before. She’s even more perfect up close.

“Er, excuse me?” Miranda turns to the man standing by Oriana that she'd forgotten about. “Can we help you?” Miranda smiles at him, silently thanking him for raising her sister. She does the same to the other man and woman, who move to stand at Oriana’s other side, looking just as concerned as their husband.

“I’m sorry,” Miranda says. “This must be so strange. I actually came to speak to your daughter.”

Oriana tilts her head slightly in confusion as Miranda raises her hand towards her. Eventually, she takes it and they shake, Miranda’s fingers closing around her hand carefully, reverently. She never thought she’d ever get to talk to her, touch her, be around her like this. If this is anything like the countless dreams she’s had about this moment, she hopes she never wakes up.

“Hello, Oriana,” she says softly, her lower eyelids already prickling. “My name is Miranda Lawson and I’m so very, _very_ pleased to meet you.”

 

* * *

 

“So, what’d you talk about?”

“I introduced myself. Her family was shocked,” Miranda replies, reclining on her chair while Shepard stands a little behind her. “She adjusted quickly, of course. She’s as smart as I am.” Miranda finds herself gushing before she can stop herself, her face sore from all the smiling she’d already done today and all the smiling she’s doing right now. She’s still reminiscing about the conversation she and Oriana had, replaying it in her head over and over. She can hardly believe it even happened, almost sure that she’s going to wake up at any moment.

“Well,” Shepard says when Miranda stops for breath, walking around the chair to face her with an amused expression. “Let me know if I can do anything else.” Miranda looks up at her half-smile and tired eyes and doesn't understand.

“Why did you help me?” she asks, voice wondering as she voices a question that’d been floating in her mind since they got back on the Normandy. It wouldn’t have hurt the mission to refuse to help, it would’ve actually been better to have used Cerberus resources to fight the Collectors rather than solve Miranda’s personal problems. 

The commander blinks down at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You asked.”

Miranda is stock-still for a moment, her mind completely silent for the first time in recent memory. Shepard looks about the room a little awkwardly before starting to back away from the chair and to the door.

“Okay, so...bye,” she says as she leaves the office, the door sliding shut behind her and leaving Miranda alone with her lack of thoughts.

 

* * *

 

Of all the problems and equations Miranda’s had to tackle in her three decades of life, Commander Shepard might just be the most confounding. Miranda has given her no reason to be kind to her, she’s even consistently ‘forgetting’ to apologize about the implant incident, yet Shepard treats her with less suspicion than she deserves.

She shows up for training punctually, listens to Miranda’s advice, and leaves with a smile. It isn’t much different from the way the commander interacts with the rest of the crew, not that Miranda’s been watching her. Much. The commander’s been leaving the Normandy rather often, as well, taking a random crew member with her to who-knows-where. These aren’t missions sent from the Illusive Man, Miranda would know if they were. She’s even more sure when she walks into the commander’s quarters to find her and Kasumi perusing different types of formal wear to perform what Kasumi called ‘the grand heist’ with very little irony.

Miranda gets serious after the commander and Jacob come back from Aeia, both looking grim. Miranda did what she could to help her friend, even with the promise sitting through a stern lecture from the Illusive Man for her trouble, but the idea of Shepard willingly going to help Jacob get closure, as if that’s a _normal_ thing to go and do, baffles her like very few things ever have.

Miranda eventually resorts to watching more of her old interviews, even rewatching some, to try and figure the woman out. None of them help and only serve to frustrate her more, as _this_ Commander Shepard is essentially a shinier, more flirty version of whatever she is now, and is therefore useless. Jacob walks into her office just as she’s given up and checking for any messages in her inbox. He starts laughing at her before she even says anything.

“What?”

“Look at you. I’ve never seen you all riled up like this since the boss vetoed your control chip idea,” he says, still chuckling. “Alright, out with it. What’s got you in a tizzy?”

“I am _not_ in a tizzy,” Miranda snaps. “I’m just...I don’t understand her.”

“Who?”

“Shepard! Why is she the way she is? Why does she _do_ all the things she does?” Miranda rants, glaring at Jacob as if he’s hiding all the answers. “Why did she help you deal with your father? What does she gain?”

Jacob walks to her side of the desk and leans a hip on the edge of it, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t think you have to _gain_ anything to want to help people. _You_ helped me and all you got was a scolding.”

“That’s different. She barely knows you.”

He shrugs. “I don’t think that matters to her.”

“I just don't get it," Miranda huffs, pawing through her bangs. "Why does she do so many unnecessary things?”

“I think it's partly for herself,” Jacob says thoughtfully. “She’s been helping everyone out lately and I think it’s doing her some good.”

“I can’t imagine how.”

“That’s because you’re a robot,” Jacob says with a grin. Miranda rolls her eyes and directs her attention to her monitor, the screen still on her inbox. As she stares at the messages she's yet to read, she gets an idea that Jacob would disapprove of, but might give her a bit more of an insight in the mind of Commander Shepard. She gets to work, typing out the codes before Jacob can realize what she’s doing.

“I don’t like that face,” he says warily, turning towards her screen. A window opens up to another inbox and he looks confused for a moment before his eyes widen. “Miranda!”

“Oh, relax.”

“Miranda, you _cannot_ look through Shepard’s messages,” he says firmly, turning her chair by the armrest so she’s facing him and not the monitor. “This is a breach of her privacy.”

“It’s just for a minute,” she says, twisting her body to turn the chair back despite the hold Jacob has on it. “She won’t even notice! I just need to know a little more about her.”

“Why don’t you try  _talking_ to her? Most people would do that _before_ resorting to hacking into people’s private inboxes.”

“This is easier,” Miranda maneuvers her arms over to the keyboard with little trouble, her flexibility allowing her to scroll through the archived messages easily. “Besides, it’s not like she’ll ever find out.”

“This is really messed up, Miranda.”

“If you don’t like it, you can leave.” Jacob frowns at her but makes no move to go. “Ah, so you’re curious, too?”

“I’m only staying so you don’t go overboard,” he huffs, letting her chair go. “A few messages and you stop, understood?”

“Sure,” Miranda says vaguely, already reading one of the messages. “Is this from Councilor Anderson? How did he manage to contact her?”

“He’s a councilor. Plus, of all people, he’d probably be the first person from her life to get in touch.” Miranda nods - she remembers reading articles about Anderson’s very vocal defense of the commander after her alleged death and all the interviews where Shepard would mention him with more than a little fondness in her voice. She scrolls through the messages some more, finding another one that looks interesting enough to open.

“Is that one from Alenko?” Jacob asks, leaning closer towards the screen. “Didn’t he and the commander have a thing?”

“You know about that?”

“Heard it from Joker, who heard it from Dr. Chakwas, who heard it from Mordin, who heard it from Kasumi,” he says. “And who knows where _she_ got it.” Miranda wonders how the commander feels about her barely-remembered private life being gossipped about, but only for a minute, directing her attention back to the letter. Something about the idea of a past lover going through the trouble to send Shepard a message irks Miranda a little. She presses the feeling down and starts reading.

 

> _Shepard,_
> 
> _I’m sorry about what I said back on Horizon. I guess I'm still mad, even though I convinced myself that I wasn't. I thought I was starting to move on, but then you went down with the Normandy and it all came back again. It took a long time and a_ lot _of work to pull myself back together again after, to get over my guilt for surviving and to stop being so angry with you, and I got better. Then I saw you again and everything pulled hard to port._
> 
> _Enough about me. What the hell are you doing with Cerberus? It's not enough that you're not actually dead, you have to be working for terrorists, too?  I can't wrap my head around it. But, then, I suppose you've changed as much as I have._
> 
> _Just be careful. I know they're helping you stop these Collector attacks, but you can't trust them. If you're still the person I remember, then you'll find a way to save the colonists and make it out of this in one piece. Watch yourself._
> 
> _-Kaidan_  

“Doesn’t seem like they were together,” she murmurs. The message isn’t nearly as long or sentimental as she’d expected. Perhaps there was less going on between them than she’d assumed. She feels somewhat appeased by this.

“She asked me about him,” Jacob says. “Shepard, I mean. I guess she figured since I used to be Alliance, I’d know him.”

“Do you?”

“Nah, not really. I mean, biotics usually stick together, but there’s more of us than you’d think.”

“Hm.”

“Alright, that’s enough.”

“No, wait, just one more,” Miranda says hastily. She scrolls and hits another archived message at random.

 

> _So, I’ve been hearing some rumors. The news has been saying some things. People have been telling me that they think they’ve seen my dead daughter walking around the Citadel, Illium, even Omega._
> 
> _Now, I know no daughter of mine, dead or otherwise, would step foot on Omega, so I have my doubts. The brass won’t tell me anything, even when Ma came and threatened bodily harm. That woman’s lucky she already retired. Anyway, Anderson got a hold of me and gave me this extranet address, saying he’s sure that it’s you._
> 
> _I don’t want to believe it. Neither of us do. God knows we went through enough burying you, I don’t even want to think that you’ve been alive all this time and didn’t tell us. I mean, the casket was empty, but still. You wouldn’t._
> 
> _Just reply to this. Tell me something only you would say so we can know for sure whether you’re some kind of Cerberus cyborg (Cerberus? Really? I_ know _we raised you better) or our actual not-dead daughter. Please._
> 
> _\--Captain Mom_

“...And now we’ve officially crossed the line,” Jacob says, closing the inbox with a quick press to the keyboard and a grimace. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into that.”

“She never replied,” Miranda says. “She read it, but never messaged her mother back. That’s odd, right?”

“None of our business,” Jacob says firmly, walking back around the desk.

“Do you think she doesn’t remember her?”

“Miranda, don’t.”

“But--”

“You absolutely cannot use this on Shepard,” Jacob says with a commanding voice, pointing at her. “Promise me you won’t.” Miranda groans but nods. Jacob jabs a finger at her again for emphasis and leaves, shaking his head as he goes.

She taps her fingers on her desk, thinking. She didn’t really get much more information on how the commander’s mind works. Those messages just told her that the woman has people reaching out to her, people she seems to be ignoring. Curious.

She’d promised she wouldn’t use this, though. There might be a way to get around that, but nothing she can think of right this second. But then, she remembers with a smirk, she never promised to stop looking. She opens up the inbox again and takes another quick peek - what Jacob doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

 

* * *

 

 _"I wouldn’t call the Alliance xenophobic,”_ Shepard says to the host of the nightly news show. _“We have our problems, like any organization, but we’re taking steps to do better.”_

 _“Some are claiming otherwise,”_ the human host replies, her face sharp and commanding. _“They’re even comparing you to Cerberus.”_

 _“Well, that’s a bit of an exaggeration,”_ the commander says with a chuckle. _“We may have a number of racists in our ranks, but we’re nothing like Cerberus. I’ve worked with people like me who’ve lived in space their whole lives and we greatly outnumber the more...boorish individuals.”_

_“Boorish?”_

_“I'd call them 'assholes', but you'd probably censor it."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was way longer than I planned, but I had a lot of fun! Kaidan's letter was really hard, I had to rewrite a lot of it. I think I mentioned it earlier, but my Shepard has two mothers. The one who messaged is Hannah, who is still in the military, unlike Fiona, who is retired. Also, in this fic, Oriana's last name is not Lawson, it's Canton, and she's got two foster fathers and a foster mother who are all married and happy because why not, it's 2185.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Commander Beefcake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get a little spicy. The title is my favorite part of this chapter, I really outdid myself.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: lots of blood and injury talk along with some mentions of infertility in this one

“ _Operative Lawson, you’re needed in the medbay._ ”

“Why?” Miranda asks, stopping her work to peer at the ceiling curiously.

“ _Commander Shepard has returned from a mission and is badly injured,_ ” EDI says. “ _Dr. Chakwas has asked for your assistance._ ” Miranda pops up from her seat and briskly makes her way to the medbay, glad that her office is on the same floor. How badly is Shepard hurt for the doctor to need her help? Miranda doesn’t even want to _think_ that the project she gave two years of her life to has gone and gotten herself mortally wounded again.

Miranda walks into the medbay just as Tali and Grunt are carefully depositing Shepard onto one of the cots, the commander’s face drawn in pain as she lies down. All three of them are smattered in blood that very well may be hers, as a cursory glance tells Miranda that the commander is the only one of them who’s really injured.

“Ah, Lawson, good.” Dr. Chakwas nods at Miranda as she approaches. “I’ve already scanned her, but I’m getting readings that I’m not used to. I thought you could provide some insight.”

“Right,” Miranda says, already moving towards the cot where Shepard has her eyes closed and her face set in a deep frown while her teammates argue above her.

“That was really careless, Grunt, you almost got Shepard killed!” Tali says, anger clear in her voice.

“I didn’t tell her to come get me,” Grunt bites back, jaw set in his growl. “I could’ve handled those stupid geth myself.”

“You were completely surrounded! We had a plan and you just went barreling in!”

“So what? Those walking lightbulbs barely even touched me.”

“That’s because Shepard saved you, you bosh’tet!”

“That’s enough!” the commander barks from the cot, eyes snapping open. She sits up, wincing as she goes and ignoring Tali’s careful hands and Dr. Chakwas’ orders to lie back down. Miranda only watches as Shepard swings her legs off the bed and speaks with what seems like great effort. “Grunt, you were reckless and childish.”

“I wasn’t--”

“ _I’m not done_ ,” Shepard snaps, eyes blazing in fury. Grunt’s mouth snaps shut and she goes on. “You went running into a fight you weren’t ready for and you risked your life, as well as mine and Tali’s, for nothing. You were going to get us all _killed_ , just to get some kind of fake glory.”

Shepard hops off the cot and stiffly walks to Grunt, standing just a bit shorter than him with her fists clenched hard in her armored gloves. “When I tell you to wait for my signal, you _wait_. When I tell you to stay in position, you will _stay_. When I give you _any_ goddamn order, you’d better follow it.”

“I was doing fine ‘till you showed up!” Grunt snarls, glaring back at her. “I didn’t need your--” That was all he gets out before Shepard rears back and hits him with a headbutt so hard it makes Miranda wince - that’s not good for the skull. Grunt backs away, clutching his face and Tali gasps, hands up and reaching toward Shepard uselessly while Dr. Chakwas sighs from behind her.

“Did I say you could talk?” Shepard growls, angry eyes only slightly dazed. “If you _ever_ run into a fight without my say-so, I’m gonna put your trigger-happy ass back in that fucking tank and throw you into the nearest empty planet so you can spend the rest of your life staring at _nothing_ and fighting _nothing_. _Have I made myself clear?_ ”

Grunt stares at her for a moment before nodding. “Yes.”

“Yes, _what?_ ” Shepard grits out, still shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

“Yes, Battlemaster.”

The commander levels him with an angry stare for another few seconds before she raises her arm and points over his shoulder. “Go to your port cargo.” Grunt obeys, trudging out of the room without a word and still rubbing at the space between his eyes. As he passes by Miranda on his way out, she sees him wearing what looks like the Krogan version of a grin.

Miranda turns to Shepard and sees her still glaring at Grunt as he leaves, mouth set in a hard line and eyes boring into his back. The moment the medbay’s doors slide shut behind him, she doubles over, hands going to her face as she lets out a pained groan.

“Oh my god, I shouldn’t’ve done that,” she hisses and sways a little bit on her feet. Tali hurries to steady her, hands going to her shoulders and letting out a quiet giggle at her commander’s pain.

“Well, now that that’s over,” Chakwas says idly, taking Shepard by the arm and leading her back to the cot. She moves the commander’s hands off her face and gets to work. “I’ll take care of this part. Tali, help Lawson take the commander’s armor off.”

Miranda marches over to Shepard, shaking her head at her. “Why the hell did you headbutt him? You could’ve broken your nose.” She and Tali carefully remove only the top of her armor piece by piece, Shepard hissing every time she’s made to move her shoulders. Blood makes the thin shirt she wears under her chest-piece stick to her body, most of it coming from the center of her back, just as Miranda guessed. She brings out her omni-tool and does a quick scan of the damage while Shepard answers her.

“Well, I couldn’t let the boy disrespect me,” Shepard mutters, tipping her head back when Chakwas nudges at her chin. Her nose is already starting to bleed and the commander’s voice gets nasally. “What kind of parent would I be then?”

Miranda stops what she’s doing and stares. “Parent?”

“Oh, yeah.” Miranda can just barely see her smile sheepishly from where she’s standing. “It’s the dynamic we’ve accidentally set up. I don’t know how I got saddled with a teenage Krogan, but that’s my lot.”

Tali laughs again. “You’re doing the best you can, Shepard. I don’t think he’ll act out anytime soon after this.”

“I hope so. I don’t think I can do that again.”

“Let’s pray he’s learned his lesson, then,” Dr. Chakwas says. “Now, hold still.” They talk for a little while longer, but Miranda isn’t listening.

Parent. Shepard has established a mother-child relationship with the tank-bred Krogan. This is unsettling in ways besides the obvious. Miranda directs her attention back to her omni-tool and doesn’t think about it.

It doesn’t take long to deal with Shepard’s injury, as she’s already started healing. The commander pulls off her shirt at Miranda’s request and apart from Tali's quiet squeak before she turns around, no one really reacts to the fact that Shepard apparently doesn't wear anything underneath it. Miranda pays it no mind - it's not like she hasn't seen it all before. Then again, the muscles are new. She doesn’t remember her shoulders being quite so large when she was reconstructing her. Miranda works quietly while Dr. Chakwas scolds Shepard in a way the commander seems accustomed to, somehow managing to laugh and be respectful of her fussing at the same time. Tali had already left to decontaminate a good while ago and Chakwas had been working at her desk before suddenly standing.

“It looks like I won’t be needed much here, so I’m going to go check on Jeff,” she says. “How much do you wager he’s ‘forgotten’ to take his medication today?”

“Easy money,” Shepard replies, laughing. “Tell him I’ve given you license to do whatever it takes to help him remember. No holds barred.” Chakwas laughs and exits the medbay, leaving the two of them alone. Miranda says nothing, just works on the commander’s powerful back and curses herself for noticing it. Her gloved fingers graze across a patch of skin far past the actual wounded area and she gives it a light press before she knows what she’s doing - it barely gives, her fingers meeting solid resistance as she gently digs into steel-like sinew.

“Everything okay back there?” Shepard asks, making her jump.

“You can’t have children,” Miranda blurts out instead of answering. What comes after is a long pause wherein Shepard goes still and Miranda has a minor heart attack. Shit, shit,  _shit_ , how could she just  _say_ it like that? It was either that or admit to Shepard that she'd been ogling the woman's body, but that's no excuse. She has a half-baked apology caught in her throat that might come out more as a garbled wail than anything else when Shepard finally speaks.

“Um, okay?” She half-turns look at her. “I already knew that.”

“You--” Miranda starts, finding her voice. “You did? How--”

“I’ve known since I was...eighteen? I think?” Shepard looks to the side, furrowing her brow. “Yeah, eighteen. The eezo exposure that gave me biotics had an extra effect, apparently.”

“That wasn’t in your file.” Miranda would know if it was, she’d read it enough times to recite it from memory alone. She would definitely remember this.

“Yeah, I kept it in the family. Wasn’t something I wanted the media to grab on to, y’know?” She shrugs. “I never really cared, but people get weird about it. It’s honestly not an issue for me.”

“Oh,” Miranda says, hands hovering over her back. “Well, that’s good, then.”

Shepard huffs out a laugh. “Really? Why’s that?”

“When you were fully recovered, there was no way to repair the damage to your womb no matter what we did,” she answers. “The Illusive Man didn’t consider it a priority, so we let it go.” She easily recalls her bitten back protests to his indifference. 

“Huh.”

“Yes, well.” Miranda sighs. She'd wanted to press the issue to the Illusive Man, to remind him that he wanted the commander exactly the way she was. She'd decided against it in the end, and good thing, too. She’d always assumed that it was her fault they couldn’t reverse the commander’s infertility, but it turns out it was there all along. She’s not sure if she should be relieved or not.

“It’s okay, Miranda,” Shepard says easily. She turns her head a bit more and smiles up at her over her shoulder. “It really doesn’t matter to me. I appreciate the concern, though.”

Miranda blinks. “I wasn’t--I mean, I just--” She takes a breath and steadies herself. “I just thought you should know. That’s all.”

Shepard nods slowly, smile growing amused. “Alright. Thanks.” Miranda nods stiffly and pulls away from her, looking only at her own hands as she yanks off her bloodied gloves.

“You’re fine,” Miranda says evenly, if somewhat harriedly. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Your skin will regenerate quickly and the cybernetic implants kept the wound from being too deep.”

“Great.” The commander hops off the cot and rotates her shoulders. “Barely hurts anymore.” Miranda hums noncommittally and her eyes go back to Shepard’s shirtless form despite her struggling not to. Shepard stretches some more, her muscles bunching and swelling and far too distracting.

“You’re bigger,” Miranda says without thinking.

“I’m what?” Shepard glances at her as she reaches for her blood-stained shirt.

“You’re--I mean,” she backpedals. “There’s more muscle than I’m used to.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been working out a little. Well, a lot. Jacob’s been helping me out.”

“Why?” The commander’s body was perfectly healthy when she’d been woken up. Gaining so much muscle mass doesn’t seem necessary. Appealing, but not necessary.

“It’s just good to concentrate on something that’s not the mission,” Shepard says. “Plus, it helps me sleep.”

“Do you mean the nightmares?” Miranda asks, remembering the mess the commander’s wild biotics made of her own quarters. Shepard presses her lips together briefly and nods. “How does exercise help?”

“Well, if I work hard, I sleep better. And when I sleep better, no nightmares,” Shepard reasons. She pulls the dirty shirt back on with a grimace. “Well. Usually. It’s not a perfect plan, but it’s all I’ve got.”

“Thanks for patching me up,” she says with a smile and a wave as she leaves the medbay, her still armored feet clunking on the ground as she goes. Miranda leans against the cot she’d just vacated, crossing her arms and frowning at the floor.

She doesn’t like this. Working out to exhaustion isn’t healthy, and it can’t be the only way to stave off nightmares. She hears a high yelp coming from outside the medbay and turns to see Yeoman Chambers approaching the commander, hand over her mouth and casting worried looks at her bloodstained clothes and armor. Miranda watches Shepard try to placate Chambers, her easy smile nothing like the ever-present celebrity grin she used to wear.

She makes a mental note to talk to Mordin about these nightmares. He’ll likely have more than a few ideas. Maybe even a permanent solution to help Shepard sleep better. For the sake of the mission, of course. If the commander is sleeping irregularly, it’d affect her efficiency, and they can't have that. They have to defeat the Collectors and they can't do that if Shepard never gets any rest or gets a damn hernia from all this excessive physical activity. Even if she does look very--

Miranda tears her eyes away from the commander and gives her head a hard shake.

 

* * *

 

Username: OrianaCan  
Username: Mlaws

OR: [LOGIN][ONLINE]

16:11 OR: i'm back! sorry that took longer than i thought

16:11 ML: That's alright.

16:12 OR: dad needed help with some boxes since that desk he wanted came today. mom and papa are at work so i was stuck with the heavy lifting

16:13 ML: Sounds rough.

16:14 OR: it was, but back to what we were talking about. will shepard be ok?

16:15 ML: Yes. It was an injury that probably would’ve maimed her two years ago, but as it is, it’s hardly a scratch.  
  
16:16 OR: i still can’t believe you work with commander shepard. THE shepard

16:16 ML: It’s really not a big deal.

16:17 OR: like hell it’s not! how is she even alive? is it actually her?

16:17 ML: Classified, but yes, it’s her.

16:18 OR: was she hiding or something? faked her death, relaxed on a beach somewhere, and then came back when the galaxy needed her or whatever?

16:19 ML: Not exactly.

16:19 OR: so what really happened?

16:21 OR: classified?

16:21 ML: I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you more.

16:22 OR: yeah ):

16:22 OR: i met her once, you know

16:23 ML: Shepard?

16:23 OR: yeah, i was on the citadel with some friends. must’ve been 6 years ago? we saw her at the presidium and went over to say hi

16:24 ML: I’m sure she flirted very charmingly with you all.

16:25 OR: ew randa! we were 13! she just signed some stuff and took a few photos. i felt bad because she looked so tired but she was really nice

16:26 OR: i still have them in my computer, wanna see?

16:26 ML: Sure.

16:27 OR: [UPLOADING]

16:28 OR: please don’t make fun of my hair, i was going through a phase

16:28 ML: I’d always wanted to do my hair like that when I was a kid.

16:29 OR: really??

16:30 ML: Yes. The color makes your eyes pop. You look adorable.

16:30 OR: thanks :)

16:31 OR: does shepard look the same as the photo?

16:31 ML: A bit, but it has been six years.

16:32 OR: plus the whole “dying” thing

16:32 ML: Ori.

16:33 OR: i know i know, classified. bet she’s still hot though

16:33 ML: Ori!

16:34 OR: is she?

16:34 ML: How would I know that?

16:35 OR: oh pleez you have eyes, don’t you?

16:38 OR: randa?

16:38 ML: She looks fine.

16:38 OR: fine? or FIIIIIINE

16:39 ML: Exactly how old are you again?

16:39 OR: don’t change the subject. you think she’s hot

16:40 ML: I do not.

16:40 OR: really? it took you a long while to answer...

16:41 ML: Three minutes is not a long while.

16:41 OR: it is in extranet time. you hesitated.

16:42 ML: Maybe I did, but it’s only because she’s the commander and I don’t objectify her the way you do.

16:43 OR: im not objectifying, im admiring. as you should be since you get to be on a ship with her 24/7! lucky!!

16:44 ML: Hardly.

16:44 OR: im just saying if ur into her you should be able to admit it. everybody’s into her

16:44 OR: well not EVERYBODY especially since those cerberus rumors

16:45 OR: care to comment on that?

16:45 ML: Ori.

16:45 OR: yeah i know. could you at least take a photo of her for me?

16:46 ML: I’ll try.

16:46 OR: good. if you could get it at a nice angle so i can get a good view of her ass, that’d be great

16:47 ML: I changed my mind.

16:47 OR: no!!!

 

* * *

 

 _”I don’t know that I have a_ type _, exactly,”_ Shepard says, running a hand through her smooth, cropped hair. _“I’m pretty flexible. I’m flexible about who I’m attracted to, as well.”_

 _“Alright, alright,”_  the Asari host laughs along with the audience. _“Is there anything you consider a deal-breaker?”_

 _“Not really. I’ll date a Krogan if we have chemistry.”_  The commander shrugs. _“I guess I avoid being involved with civilians. Not going down that road again.”_

_“Again?”_

_“Yeah, it’s the same old story. I think every soldier’s been in a relationship with a civilian at some point. I was with someone for a while before we ended things.”_

_“How long?”_

_“About...five years? I know.”_

_“What happened?”_

_“What always happens. They don’t really get it. I mean, they try, bless them, they try. But they just don’t. No one who hasn’t been in the thick of it like we have can understand what we deal with out there.”_

_“That sounds very hard.”_

_“It is, but, honestly? I think it was more so for her than for me.”_ Shepard looks at her feet, looking the least sparkling than she ever has in these talk-show interviews. _“I have two mothers in the military. Growing up, I only saw them a few times a year. That was really rough. Especially the worry, I worried a lot as a kid.”_

 _“I can imagine.”_ The host nods, face sympathetic. The audience is the quietest Miranda has ever heard them be as Shepard goes on.

 _“I wouldn’t want anyone to have to go through what I did, always scared that the last time I saw my moms would be the_ last _time I saw them, y’know? I should’ve thought of that before I enlisted, but I didn’t. So, it ended.”_

_"I'll probably be the only one in this room to say this and mean it, but I'm sorry to hear that."_

_"Are you, though? Are you?"_

_"Not that much, no. Especially since I was right about you having been in a relationship!"_ The audience laughs and cheers.

_"Ha! Alright, I'll take that one."_

_"Never doubt my research team, Commander."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been really looking forward to writing Miranda and Oriana's IM interactions and I'm so glad to finally do it! It was so much fun and it felt so natural and easy. I have a little sister of my own, so I took some inspiration from our own conversations (except I'm Oriana and she's Miranda. Don't ask me how that works). Looks like Miranda's starting to develop a crush on Shep. Honestly FINALLY because I like slow-burn but I have things to do.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	9. Sharing is Caring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another unreasonably long one. Actual bit of plot here because it's been a while since we did anything about those pesky Collectors. I'll be honest, I don't really like this chapter. I have a whole plan for this fic and this was the part I was not looking forward to. Oh, well.
> 
> Sorry this took so long! I've been in and out of a depression cloud for a little while now, but I think I'm ready to update a bit more regularly. If you stuck around, thanks!

“So the Illusive Man _didn’t_ sell us out,” Jacob says gruffly, looking more annoyed than satisfied by this news. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Lied to us. Used us,” Mordin adds, gesturing and pacing about the briefing room in his usual brisk manner. “Needed access to the Collector data banks. Necessary risk.”

Miranda says nothing - she trusts the Illusive Man, has nothing but unwavering faith in his decisions and his goals. She’s confident in the fact that walking into that trap was worth it, even if she still remembers the cold fear cutting into her all too clearly. Her trembling had already begun to subside while Shepard was in comms with the Illusive Man, but she still has to cross her arms to keep herself still.

“There wasn’t any other choice,” Shepard says lowly, leaning on the long table in the center of the room with both hands and looking down at it darkly. “Let’s just hope this IFF actually works.” She’s been like this ever since they’d warped out of the Collector’s reach, her face stormy when she’d marched to the comm room to demand answers from the Illusive Man. She’d looked no less furious when she’d returned, even if she’d relayed the Illusive Man’s motives back to them in an even voice. Miranda can just barely feel the static pull of the commander’s biotics sparking through her stiff posture. It doesn’t go past Jacob’s notice either, judging from the look he gives her from across the table.

“ _My analysis is accurate, Commander,_ ” EDI pipes up. Everyone turns to her virtual avatar at the other end of the table as she goes on. “ _I have also determined the approximate location of the Collector homeworld based on navigational data from their vessel._ ” EDI creates a glowing map in the center of the table and projects her findings, focusing on an area that makes everyone in the room go still.

“That can’t be right,” Miranda says, eyebrows furrowing as she moves closer to the map, sure this is some kind of mistake, a processing error of some kind. She glances up at Shepard to see her looking just as skeptical.

“You’re sure about this, EDI?” she asks.

“ _Yes, Commander. The Collector homeworld is located in the galactic core._ ”

“Can’t be,” Jacob scoffs. “The core is just black holes and exploding suns. There are no habitable planets there.”

Mordin examines the map carefully and says, “Could be an artificial construction. Space station protected by radiation shields and powerful mass effect relays.”

“Not even the Collectors have that kind of technology,” Miranda says, still not quite believing this.

Shepard frowns. “Would explain why no one’s ever come back from the Omega 4 mass relay.”

“ _The logical conclusion is that a small safe zone exists on the far side of the relay,_ ” EDI says. “ _A region where ships can survive._ ” Miranda finds herself pacing back and forth as she goes on, trying to work off some of the nervous energy left behind by the Collector ship ambush. She thinks she catches Shepard glancing at her for just a second before the commander directs her attention back to the galaxy map, the moment so fast, Miranda wonders if she’d imagined it.

“Sooner or later, we need that IFF,” Jacob says, addressing Shepard. “I say, why wait?”

Miranda shakes her head at him. “It’s a derelict Reaper. What if the Collectors are waiting for us?” Jacob considers that before nodding. She stops her pacing to turn to Shepard and say, “We should build up our team before taking that kind of risk.” Mirada’s about done taking risks when it comes to presumably abandoned alien ships.

Shepard nods as well. “Right. The more people we have on our side, the better. Let’s hold off on the IFF until we’re ready.” With that, the meeting ends, Jacob saluting predictably before he leaves and Mordin giving Shepard a nod as he follows. Miranda goes to exit as well when the commander pipes up, “Hang on a sec, Miranda.”

She looks at her over her shoulder as Shepard moves away from the table to turn towards Miranda more fully - her expression is softer and Miranda no longer feels the prickling of eezo coming off of her. Shepard seems to be searching for the right words while Miranda waits, keeping her own expression neutral.

“Are you alright?” she finally asks, eyes searching Miranda’s face. “That mission was rough, even before they got the drop on us. How are you holding up?”

Miranda blinks, her composure faltering slightly in surprise. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? You got a pretty bad hit.” Miranda had forgotten. She'd gotten a shot to her hip during the race back to the Normandy, cutting through her armor and breaking skin. She'd taken care of it and it's already mostly healed, but she's not surprised that Shepard's being uptight about it.

“Yes,” she says firmly, becoming defensive. “Aren’t _you_?”

“No,” Shepard replies, looking down briefly before meeting Miranda’s eye again. “Like I said, it was rough.” Miranda drops the hackles she’d raised and loosens up just a little.

“It certainly wasn’t what I was expecting,” she admits. It was immensely disturbing to walk through the dark pathways and corners of the ship, almost regularly coming across piles of corpses. She’d known it wasn’t going to be pleasant. She’d prepared herself for an uncomfortable mission as soon as Shepard popped into her office and told her to suit up, Garrus in tow with his sniper rifle at the ready, but it was still harrowing.

“Good thing EDI pulled us out when she did. I should remember to thank her.”

“ _I was only doing what I was programmed to do, Commander,_ ” EDI chimes in, her voice ringing in the mostly empty room. “ _But, you’re welcome._ ”

Shepard huffs out a laugh at the ceiling before pointing her grin directly at Miranda, unaware of the way it makes Miranda’s nerves quake.

“Anyway,” Miranda says, tearing her eyes away from that dangerous smile. “It was an ordeal, but I’m alright. Really.” She can see Shepard giving her a long look from the corner of her eye and struggles to keep from squirming under her gaze.

“Okay.” Shepard looks away and Miranda just barely keeps from sighing in relief. “If you need to talk, though, I’ll listen. Not like we’ll have much to do besides getting this IFF for a while.”

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Miranda says, already moving to leave. “I’ll deal with what I have to deal with on my own. The mission comes first.”

Shepard says nothing, but Miranda glances at her face again as she exits the room to see her slant another smile towards her, small and wry.

“Sounds familiar,” Shepard says just loud enough for Miranda to hear before the door slides shut.

 

* * *

 

“Ah, yes,” Mordin only looks at her briefly as she enters the lab before grabbing a little glass vial from the table and holding it out for her to take. “Sleep aid ready for consumption. Wanted to mention it before, got distracted. Here.”

“Thank you,” Miranda says, taking the vial from him. It’s filled halfway with little orange pills that _look_ ordinary. “And these are safe to take?”

“Of course. Simple enough to create. Too simple.” He works on what looks like three other projects while he talks, multitasking between them fluidly. “Decided to spice it up a little. Maybe add some side-effects. Perhaps went overboard.”

Miranda sighs, not altogether surprised. “Mordin, I only asked for something to help a human sleep.”

“Aware of that. Scrapped some ideas. Pills won’t change user’s hair color anymore.”

“What _didn’t_ you scrap?”

“Necessary features. Sleeping pills are now just sleeping pills. Now working on something to help with anxiety. Thought that might be useful. Seen Shepard show signs of significant anxiety. Gets in the way of making decisions.” He looks up from his work crooks a finger below his mouth thoughtfully. “Hides it well. Not well enough. Enemies might take advantage.”

Miranda balks. “Wait, how did you know these pills were for Shepard?”

“Not hard to guess. Most of the crew aware of her sleeping problems. Some worried.” He nods at her. “Surprised you’re one of them.”

“I’m not.” Miranda’s quick to deny it, especially with the knowing look Mordin gives her when she does. “It isn’t like that. Keeping the commander in top form is something I take seriously.”

“Of course. Mission depends on her.” Mordin turns in the direction of the comm room, where Miranda had left the commander only minutes before. “Big weight. Heavy. Hope some sleep helps.”

Miranda can’t think of anything to say that won’t betray the half-formed, and largely ignored, tugging in her chest, so she just nods and leaves. She squeezes the vial of pills in her hand as she goes, the weight of it feeling like both a lifeline and an anchor.

She walks out into the CIC on her way to the elevator but falters when she spots Shepard and Yeoman Chambers in an embrace. The commander stoops to make up for the height difference, but Chambers still has to get on her tiptoes while she holds her tight, eyes closed in the hug that looks far from professional.

Miranda doesn’t spare it longer than a few seconds’ glance and goes to the elevator. She might be clicking her heels against the ground a bit harder than necessary on the way, but if the noise snaps those two out of it and gets them back to work, it’s for the best. She punches the button in the elevator to the crew deck with a little more force usual, but the doors don't close in time for her to miss Yeoman Chambers' too-bright smile when they finally pull apart.

 

* * *

 

Miranda would like to think she’s above skulking around and waiting to give Shepard the medication, but she would be lying to herself. It’s been a full two days since Mordin gave them to her and she still hasn’t found the opportunity to hand them over.

That’s not entirely true - she _has_ had opportunities, several in fact, but she always backs out at the last second. For the life of her she can’t figure out why she gets so nervous at the very thought of giving Shepard a damn bottle of pills. Probably for the same reason she hasn’t gotten around to apologizing yet. This is absurd.

Miranda exits her office and heads to the elevator when she sees Shepard going in the same direction. Something possesses her to pause and go behind a wall to watch her go, only getting out of hiding when she’s gone. She must be going up to her quarters. Miranda could go up there and make up something mission-related to talk about, then casually toss in the pills as an afterthought. Maybe Shepard will be in the shower and Miranda can drop them off and go. Or, better yet, she can leave the pills on the ground, knock on the door, and run before--

Miranda groans. She’s really hit rock-bottom. She can’t face the commander like this. She walks past the elevator and heads straight to the port observation deck - she might as well get a drink to calm her nerves. She hears some muffled conversation as she gets closer to the door coming from more people than she’s used to being in that room. As far as she knows, only Kasumi spends any time in there.

“Is this another weird human tradition? Like labor day or that...groundhog thing?” That sounds like Garrus, followed by a more faint voice that sounds like Moreau coming from the speakers in the room.

“ _Sort of, except, no, not really."_

“I’ve heard of humans celebrating the day they were born, but I’ve never understood it.” Miranda thinks that’s Tali. “Quarians don’t really do that sort of thing.”

“Turians don’t either. What’s the big deal? You were born, so was everybody. Why celebrate it?” The door opens and everyone in the room turns to look at her at the same time, everyone being Garrus and Tali, as she’d guessed.

“ _Oh my god, seriously? Kasumi, could you please--_ ”

“Hey, Miranda,” Garrus cuts in over Moreau’s voice. Moreau falls silent while Tali does the same, turning away from her on her seat. Miranda nods at Garrus and turns to leave - she’s obviously interrupting something. She can come get a drink later.

“Miranda, wait!” a disembodied voice calls out and she looks over her shoulder in time to see Kasumi decloak in a haze of sparkling smoke. “We want to ask you something.”

“She won’t go for it, Kasumi,” Tali says, resigned. Kasumi ignores her and gestures for Miranda to follow her into the room. Miranda does, albeit warily, and remains standing even when Kasumi sits on the other side of the sofa by Garrus.

“So, Shepard’s birthday is today and we were thinking about doing something nice for her,” Kasumi says, smile visible even under her dark hood.

“It’s her birthday?” Miranda asks, even if she can easily recall the date that was in the commander’s file and knows it’s true.

Kasumi nods. “It is on some parts of Earth, anyway.”

“Is she aware of that?”

“ _Doubt it,_ ” Moreau replies through the speakers.

“So, what, did you get her a present or something?”

“We’re supposed to get a present?” Garrus asks. “I mean, I guess she could have one of my guns. Maybe.”

“No guns,” Kasumi says firmly. “She’s not materialistic, so I don’t think she’d want anything. I mean, have you seen what she wears?” Tali snorts and Garrus gives a clicky chuckle.

“ _Anyway, we were kinda stuck on what to do before you got here,_ ” Moreau says when he's done laughing. “ _We’re not even sure we’re_ allowed _to do anything, what with the mission and all._ ”

He isn’t wrong. It certainly would be a waste of time and resources. That sort of effort would be better used to improve the Normandy and prepare for the trip into the Omega 4 relay. There simply would be no benefits to setting up some kind of celebration for a grown woman’s birthday. It doesn't matter how curious Miranda may or may not be about said grown woman's reaction to it.

“I suppose a small party wouldn’t derail us too much,” she says as nonchalantly as she can, even if everyone in the room stares at her like she’s just pulled her own head off. “What?”

“You’re not serious,” Tali says, breaking the stunned silence.

“It’ll be good for morale. People have been anxious ever since that Collector ship scare.” Miranda is actually quite impressed with herself for coming up with that so quickly.

“Wow. Okay, then,” Garrus says, beady eyes still a little wide. “Joker? What do you think?”

“ _Honestly, I’m still just trying to process this._ ”

Miranda rolls her eyes. “It has to be _small_. And not too long. And no drinking.”

Kasumi throws her hands up. “How is this even a party?”

“No drinking. We’ll take a break and then get right back to work.”

“‘We’?” Tali asks, crossing her arms.

Miranda straightens her posture. “Someone has to make sure you all don’t go overboard. Where will we be doing this?”

“Mess hall?” Kasumi suggests.

“ _CIC?_ ” Moreau adds. “ _Kinda stuffy, though. Engine room?_ ”

“We should do it in her quarters,” Tali says. “Shepard’s always coming to check on us. We should go to her for once.”

“Great idea, Tali!” Kasumi says, her grin bright under her hood. “I love that room. Maybe I can finally snoop around a little. A woman like her’s bound to have some naughty secrets.”

“And now we know not to leave Kasumi out of our sight,” Garrus says, deadpan. “When are we doing this?”

“ _I’ll get the word out. Someone’s gotta get Shepard out of her room for a while._ ”

“On it.” Tali springs to her feet and strides out of the room, bumping past Miranda in a way that might not be completely accidental.

“ _Great, we can spruce up the room a little while she’s gone. She’s gonna freak!_ ” Moreau says gleefully.

“Let’s maybe avoid startling the recently revived soldier,” Garrus says. “We all know she carries a sidearm, and that might not end well.”

The remaining three continue to talk about the party while Miranda discreetly leaves. She wonders how many people Moreau plans to squeeze into Shepard’s quarters. The room is big, but it’s not _that_ big. She has a feeling none of them will abide by the no drinking rule either. Miranda sighs, already regretting her life choices.

 

* * *

 

Moreau has managed to restrain himself and only invited the ground team, plus the engineering crew, and Dr. Chakwas. Yeoman Chambers is also present, not that Miranda had noticed. They’d opted to keep the lights on so as to not shock the commander, though with the way her eyes go wide and her jaw practically drops to the floor, it may not have been necessary. At least she doesn’t draw her pistol on them.

Practically everyone pulls Shepard into senseless hugs, Chambers of course being first in line. People like Samara are content with touching her shoulder in her way or nodding their congratulations. Zaeed presents her with what he calls his “seventh-best” assault rifle and looks embarrassed by her heartfelt thanks. Garrus gives her a more modern weapon and responds to Massani’s dirty look with what looks like a triumphant smirk.

Nobody drinks, thankfully. At least, Miranda doesn’t _see_ anyone drinking. She wouldn’t be surprised if Jack sneaked something past her from the way she’s dancing on top of the couch. Jacob joins Miranda at the far wall she’s leaning on, away from the thick of the party, and gives her a grin.

“So, this is nice,” he says.

“Enjoy it while you can,” Miranda replies, giving him a stern look. “Another twenty minutes and it’s back to business as usual.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m surprised you went for it. This doesn’t really scream ‘vital mission activities’.

“It won’t hurt the mission. And besides,” Miranda shrugs, “everyone needs a break every once in a while.” She turns to Jacob when he doesn’t reply and finds him gaping at her much like the way the others did in the port observation deck, his cup of party-regulated water paused inches from his mouth.

“Are you okay?” he asks, mock-concerned. “Seriously, are you sick? Hang on, let me check--”

“Very funny.” Miranda slaps his hand away when he tries to press it to her forehead. “Don’t make it a bigger deal than it is. It’s just a short break. Defeating the Collectors still comes first.”

“ _That_ sounds more like you,” he says dryly over his drink. “Glad you’re making an effort, though. Shepard seems happy.” Jacob nods in her direction and Miranda looks over before she can tell herself not to. She finds Shepard sitting on the couch between Thane and Jack, leaning over to listen intently to a story being told by Engineer Daniels, who sits on the table across from her. Miranda can’t hear what they’re saying over the music and the buzz of conversation happening around her. She sees Engineer Donnelly add something to Daniels’ story, only for Daniels to frown at him and reply with something that makes Shepard laugh so hard she has to hold her sides. She almost looks like she’s in pain, but her sharp face is spread wide with her smile and Miranda feels her laughter pull at something inside of her. Something soft and warm and buried beneath miles of dread.

The party ends more or less on time and Miranda is one of the first to leave. She’s got a lot of work waiting for her in her office and she can’t put it off any longer. She makes sure to discreetly place the vial of pills on Shepard’s desk before she rushes into the elevator, eager to be gone before she sees it. She then stays inside her office for the remainder of the day cycle, working well into the night and only deciding to leave when her stomach growls violently and she _needs_ to eat before she passes out.

She heads to the mess hall and pauses when she sees her - Shepard, sitting cross-legged on the counter while reading something on a datapad with Mess Sergeant Gardner nowhere to be found. Her dark hair is tied back for once and gleams under the bright overhead light. Her face is the least gaunt Miranda's ever seen it be, though her cheekbones are still intimidating, especially without the thick curtain of her hair blocking them.

Miranda shakes herself - she hadn't realized she'd been staring. Shepard hasn’t noticed her yet, it’d be easy enough for her to keep walking and pretend she hadn’t seen her or gaped at her like a creep.

“Why are you awake?” she asks instead as she walks over to the commander, stomach rumbling hard, but not too hard to ignore. Shepard keeps looking down at the datapad, seeming like she didn't hear her.

"Hello?" Miranda tilts her head to get a look at her face and sees a familiar dazed look in the commander's eyes. Miranda waves a hand in front of her face and she jumps like she'd hit her, reeling back and looking at Miranda with wide eyes. Before Miranda can ask, Shepard relaxes and blinks at her, seeming to have come back to life.

"Sorry, did you say something?" she asks, looking completely normal again.

Miranda considers her options for a moment before deciding against asking what that was. She seems fine now, and if it's a problem she'd have already noticed. "I asked why you're awake."

“I could ask you the same thing. Hungry?” She looks down at the box of wrapped food sitting by Shepard’s leg and shakes her head.

“I was just going to check on the ship’s engines,” she lies idly. Ship maintenance isn’t really in her job description, but Shepard isn’t likely to know that. Miranda’s proven right when the commander only nods and asks no further questions. “Isn’t it your night cycle right now?”

“Yeah, but I’m not really tired.” From the dark circles under her eyes and the way she'd been spacing out a moment ago, Miranda isn’t sure that’s true. Has she not seen the pills yet? “Thought I’d catch up on the news. Stuff I missed in the past two years.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“Probably not, but it’s helpful.” Shepard shrugs before looking at the article open in the datapad. “Did you know I got promoted?"

"Posthumously, yes." Miranda nods. "You're technically a major in the Systems Alliance."

"Fancy. Speaking of the Alliance." She leans over a little to show Miranda the article. "They really went downhill when they lost me, huh?”

“That’s an understatement,” Miranda says, moving next to Shepard to get a look. “They got criticized every few weeks, every move they had made someone angry. You’d think public approval ratings didn’t hinge on a single commander, but, well.”

“Hmm. Not from Major Mercy, though.”

“Right, they stopped a little after you died. Wait, you remember Major Mercy?” Miranda looks up from the datapad to her.

“Yeah, kind of. I’ve been reading a lot of their stuff lately. They _really_ don’t like me.”

“Does that mean your memories are returning?” 

“Not completely, but I’m getting there.” Miranda’s shoulders droop just a little, but Shepard notices, tilting her head sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

Miranda blinks. “For what?”

“Y’know. For not being completely me.” The commander looks away, stares down at her datapad as she speaks. “I’m not really the same Shepard you were expecting. I don’t know why, but I’m different. Sorry.” The urge to reach out and do something about the awful dejected expression on Shepard’s face is too great. Miranda crosses her arms before she does something she'll regret and focuses on how to approach this.

“It’s not your fault,” she manages to say. She stays standing near Shepard, leaning her hip against the counter. “I...I’ve been focusing too much on who you used to be. Who you are right now isn’t so bad.”

“You think?” Shepard turns to her and Miranda feels that she might be standing too close. She doesn’t move away, only meets Shepard’s gaze and nods.

“I know. Frankly, based on what I’ve seen, you’re just as capable now as you’ve ever been. I wish Cerberus recruited you earlier.”

Shepard pulls a grimace at that. “Yeah, about that. I’ve been reading up on y'all and...I’m not sure I like what I’ve found.”

“Probably not. We’ve never been the media's favorite.”

“Your experiments cross the line.”

“All the time, yes,” Miranda says plainly. She’s well used to the criticisms thrown at Cerberus and the Illusive Man, even accepted the validity of some of them a long time ago. “But I recall a Spectre who crossed a few lines while hunting down Saren and the geth.”

Shepard lets out a short chuckle. “And that makes me Cerberus material, huh?”

“And we’d be lucky to have you. Too many join us out of simple xenophobia. We need more people here for the right reasons.”

“What was the right reason for experimenting on children?” Shepard asks, raising a thick eyebrow at her. “Children like Jack?”

“A mistake. No question,” Miranda replies quickly. She’d felt sick when she read the report Shepard made about what she found on Pragia. She’d never been fond of Jack, but no one deserves what happened in that prison. “One that was corrected once we discovered the extent of the experiments being performed.”

“Yeah, but how do you work for the kind of people who let that sort of thing go?” Shepard turns herself face Miranda fully. “With your skills, you could’ve landed any job you wanted. Why Cerberus?” Miranda gives herself a moment to think before answering.

“Because I still envy the time Mordin spent with the STG, working with people as smart as he was.” She doesn’t feel the need to hide the truth. It isn’t like she’s never asked herself the same question in her darker moments when the lengths Cerberus is willing to go weigh heavy on her. “And Cerberus doesn't limit me. They never tell me that something is impossible. They just give me my resources and say, ‘do it.’”

“And they’ve given you even more,” she adds, giving Shepard an appraising look. “A new life, a new ship, the Illusive Man’s personal attention...” The sentence comes out dry when it would've sounded bitter a few months ago.

“I’m not sure I want his attention,” Shepard admits tiredly as she crumples up an empty wrapper. “He expects a lot, your boss.”

“Only because his goals are so great. Besides, you seem to be meeting those expectations rather handily.” Shepard smiles sheepishly.

“Yeah, but it’s not all me,” she says, poking Miranda’s upper arm with a fresh bar. “Wouldn’t have come anywhere near this far without you.”

“Oh, you’d have been fine,” Miranda says, even if she has to turn her head to hide her smile. “You have enough in you to carry this team to hell and back.”

“Even like this?” Shepard asks jokingly, but Miranda doesn’t miss the doubt hidden in the question. She faces Shepard completely and meets her gaze head on.

“Yes. Especially like this.” Shepard’s tiny smile grows, her cheeks rounding out and making her look young, too young to carry all that she does. The woman has only just turned thirty-one, and that's if the two years she'd been clinically brain-dead count as actual time she's lived. Miranda's not sure they do, seeing as she's the one who'd spent those two years trying to keep her breathing.

 _Big weight. Heavy._ Mordin's words come to mind and she sees the truth in them now. Shepard doesn't even look hampered by it all, even if half the time she looks like she's going to collapse where she stands. She hasn't stopped taking the time to help the crew with their personal problems, no matter how injured she gets or how many resources are used. Miranda would've put a stop to all these detours if she hadn't been one of the first offenders. Moreover, it's been beneficial for the team to solve their grievances before they hit the Omega 4 Relay. It's good for the mission, she knows it is, but she's finding it hard to convince herself of that every time she looks at Shepard and sees the deep exhaustion lining her face. She's pulled out of her reverie when the commander raises the power bar towards her.

She shakes her head at it. “I don't--”

“Just take it,” Shepard says, her smile still there, but her tone firm. “Your stomach just growled for the fifth time since you got here and I’m tired of politely ignoring it. Eat.”

Miranda opens her mouth, ready to protest, before her stomach lets out a rather frightening roar that draws both their eyes to her midriff and makes her wince. She takes the bar without a word and resolutely ignores Shepard’s quiet snickers.

“So, while I have you here,” Shepard breaks the companionable silence at one point, pushing the box of food closer to Miranda when she finishes her second bar. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

“Haven’t you asked enough questions?” Miranda replies after swallowing another bite of the admittedly delicious and filling candy. She reads the nutritional facts in the back of the wrapper - these things have a _lot_ of protein.

“This one isn’t about Cerberus.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Might be a little personal, but since we’re friends, I figure it’s probably alright.” Shepard says the word so casually, Miranda almost misses it. She has to backtrack and play it again in her mind to process it.

“Huh,” she says with her mouth only somewhat stuffed with food. “Friends.”

“I’m sharing my favorite candy with you. That makes you my friend.” Shepard takes a bite of her own bar and waits while Miranda looks back at her and starts to smile in spite of herself.

“Alright.” She looks straight ahead. “Ask.”

“How much...armor is that?” Miranda raises an eyebrow at her and she gestures toward Miranda’s whole body. “I mean, your outfit. Armor? How protective is it?”

“Protective enough.”

“A bullet cut right through it on Illium. And you got injured on the Collector ship.”

“I heal quickly.”

“So do I, but I still wear heavy plating.” Shepard gives her a once-over and she tries not to fidget. “If it works and you’re comfortable with it, fine, but I have to wonder if it’ll hold up when we get through the Omega 4 relay.”

“I'm not made of glass.”

"I'm not doubting your strength, Miranda,” Shepard says evenly. “I’m worried you’ll get hurt. The kind of hurt your accelerated healing can't help in time.”

And just like that, Miranda’s defenses are once again torn down by the commander’s sincerity. She’d never given much thought to getting injured, always being certain she’d be fine in no time thanks to her enhanced constitution. Maybe she’s been coasting on her genes for too long.

“I’ve never used anything other than this,” she admits quietly.

“Lucky for you, I’ve been through more sets of armor than shoes,” Shepard says with a winning grin. “I know exactly where to go.”

“We’re going to buy something?”

“Of course. Not to knock Cerberus engineering, but I have a feeling we’d have to go through hours of paperwork to request new armor, right?” Miranda nods - she’s had to request more of what she normally wears before, and the work to get there isn’t something she wants to go through again. “Plus, you want something that fits you specifically, not some one-size standard issue model.”

“Do I?”

“Sure you do. I’ll have Joker dock us on the Citadel soon and we can get to it.” Miranda’s a little dizzy by this sudden turn of events, but she’s amused nonetheless. It would be good for her to have some really reliable armor, the mission deserves no less than her absolute best. Plus, if she gets to have Shepard’s attention centered on only her for a few hours, that would be nice, too. Not that that matters.

“I suppose I’ll go to bed then, if I’m going to be forced to go shopping,” Miranda says with a dramatic sigh that makes Shepard chuckle. “You should try and get some sleep, too.”

“I will. Shouldn’t be too hard with these.” Shepard pulls the vial of sleeping pills out of her pocket and grins when Miranda balks at it. “Found these in my room. I asked Mordin and he said they would help me sleep. Wouldn’t tell me who left them on my desk, though.”

Miranda flounders longer than she should have. “Who knows?”

“Uh huh. Thanks for the party, by the way. And don’t try it,” Shepard says when Miranda starts to deny it. “Joker already told me you were the one who okayed it.”

“Oh, fine, you’re welcome,” Miranda says, a little flustered despite herself. “Just--take the pills and go to sleep, damn it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Shepard gives her a salute, her eyes bright with a mirth that would be incredibly annoying if Miranda wasn’t already so horribly charmed. 

 

* * *

 

ML: [LOGIN][ONLINE]

 

17:50 ML: Hi, Oriana. I know you said you would be busy today, but I had to message you.

17:51 ML: Nothing's wrong and I'm fine. I had a very difficult mission. The life-threatening kind. It was intense.

17:53 ML: Alright, it was terrifying. I can't give you any details. Partly because I'm not sure I can talk about it yet.

17:54 ML: I just wanted you to know that I love you. I haven't said it even though I've known it for years, and almost dying made me realize that I should. I know it might sound strange, seeing as you only found out about me a few months ago, but it's true. I love you and I'm so glad to be able to talk to you, even if it's only through the extranet.

17:56 ML: I think that's it. I hope you're having fun at your sleepover. Say hello to your parents for me.

ML: [OFFLINE] 

 

OR: [LOGIN][ONLINE]

9:15 OR: i love you too

 

* * *

 

_“--swear that the armored person in this surveillance footage is, in fact, the late Commander Shepard.”_

_"Those left behind in the attack on Horizon confirm that they saw Shepard fighting back the unnamed threat. The Systems Alliance could not be reached for comment--”_

_“--and I’m here to tell you that that can't be Shepard. It’s gotta be some kind of publicity stunt, or, hell, somebody in a costume.”_

_“If that's her, then where has she been? How is she alive? Why did she--"_

_“--can’t be her, she’s_ glowing  _for god’s sake.”_

_“The Commander has been rumored to be working with the terrorist group, Cerberus--”_

_"--must be some kind of Cerberus clone, or a high-tech VI or something."_

_"She looks way too different, it's some kind of Cerberus trick--"_

_"--never found a body, right? What if--"_

_“I know what I saw! She's back!”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I wrote all this. I'm so tired. The next one will probably be just as long. Ugh.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	10. Asleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, remember when I said I'd update more? Sigh. Depression's a bitch.
> 
> Depictions of dissociation in this one. Excuse any mistakes or typos! I was a little bit lazy with the editing here.

Jack strides into the room, looking purposeful and as stubborn as she always does. Miranda glances up at her, not entirely sure what could’ve happened to bring the girl into her office. She arches an eyebrow at her and her already hard face goes harder. So she’ll have to drag it out of her, then.

“Can I help you, Jack?”

“I gotta talk to you,” she replies in her usual sharp voice that sounds like it’s being deliberately made lower.

Seems like she’s here for a fight. Miranda would rather this happened when she’s not making reports, but she knows better than to ask for a raincheck. “I guessed that. What about?”

“About Shepard.” She furrows her brow as Jack crosses her arms over her narrow chest, probably making an attempt to look intimidating. Miranda sits back on her chair and mirrors her, crossing her own arms.

“What about Shepard?”

“You know what about.”

“I honestly don’t. Can you be a bit more specific?” Jack clicks her tongue.

“It’s about Shepard and all of _this_ ,” she snaps, gesturing about the office and looking irritated about having made to clarify. “That specific enough?”

“Not really.” Jack makes an aggravated huff like she thinks Miranda’s being willfully obtuse and drops her fists to her sides.

“I get why you need her. For some reason, she’s the only thing that can stop these Collectors or whatever the fuck,” she says, glaring at Miranda with her lip curled threateningly. “But I know how you want this to end.”

“Do you? Why don’t you enlighten me, then?” Miranda asks in a neutral, if bored, tone. Jack bares her teeth and stomps to her desk.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? What _Jacob’s_ doing? Getting all buddy-buddy with Shepard up until she gets the job done, then _bam!”_ Jack slams a fist into the table and Miranda just barely manages not to jump. “You drop her and fuck off like everybody else. And that’s if she even fucking survives.”

“Oh? And you know that for a fact?”

“Don’t play with me. I know how you Cerberus assholes work.” Her face tightens and though it’s not visible yet, Miranda can just barely feel static buzzing off of her. “You take and you use until there’s nothing left. You’re not doing that to her, not while I’m here.”

Miranda huffs out a laugh. “Is this you _protecting_ her? Is that what you’re doing?” Jack doesn’t answer, only keeps her steady scowl. “My, my, aren’t we noble?”

“Laugh all you want. I meant what I said.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did. Not to worry, though, I don’t plan on using Shepard any more than necessary.”

“See, I’m not so sure about that,” Jack says, the corner of her lips curving ever so slightly. “I got a feeling _you_ wanna use her for things besides mowing down Collectors.” Miranda’s hand tightens over her bicep.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, voice like ice.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her. You’re not as slick as you think, Princess.”

Miranda’s expression only gets colder. “You’re delusional.”

"Keep bullshitting yourself if that makes you happy. Just don't try anything."

“ _Try_ anything? You’re such a child,” she bites out with a smirk plastered on her face. “What’s wrong, am I taking too much of your precious commander’s attention?”

“Think what you want, I already said my piece.”

“Oh, yes, and it was _adorable_. The baby cub coming to protect the mother. How sweet.” Miranda places a hand over her own heart and tilts her head at her while Jack rolls her eyes. “No, really. It’s wonderful that you’ve managed to form such a bond with her, I didn’t think it was possible for you.”

“Oh, _fuck_ you,” Jack snaps, leaning in close and definitely starting to get blue around the edges now. “You wanna turn this around on me, fine, just don’t forget. I warned you.”

“So, what, if I sleep with Shepard, you’ll kill me? Is that it?” Miranda asks wryly. “Please. Even if I wanted her that way, you couldn’t do a thing to stop me.”

“Wanna bet?” Jack snarls, flaring bright blue and making small objects around the room levitate.

Miranda stands, her own corona igniting as she moves around her desk. The office is awash in biotics and the static can’t be good for the work she left open on her terminal, but she can worry about that later. Right now, there’s an irritating whelp in her office who needs to learn some respect.

“Try it, little girl,” she says, her voice low and dangerous. “Let’s see what Subject Zero can do.”

And that’s when the first chair goes flying. Miranda does well to deflect the projectiles Jack launches at her, alternating between barriers and pushing them back at her. Pens, books, even her own desk comes careening towards her before she carefully returns the bigger objects to their proper place and uses the smaller ones as ammunition. She really shouldn't be doing this, it's miles beneath her, but here she is. Ever since she stepped onto the Normandy, Jack has been disturbingly proficient at bringing out the worst in her. Miranda's surprised it took this long for them to come to blows. Someone should come in at some point. Probably before Jack hurls another chair. Jack moves to do exactly that just as the office door flies open.

“Whoa, whoa!” Shepard calls out as Miranda pushes the chair aside and sends it crashing into the wall behind her. She stands between them, glaring at them both in turn. “Stand down, both of you!”

Miranda complies, letting her biotics fade out. Jack does the same, though her hands are clenched as she stares daggers at her with dark eyes still faintly ringed with blue. They stare each other down wordlessly even as Shepard looks between them.

“Anybody wanna tell me what’s going on here?” she asks, crossing her arms. Miranda’s mind races, struggling to think of an explanation that doesn’t involve the truth.

Jack beats her to it. “The cheerleader won’t admit what Cerberus did to me was wrong!” she says, looking furious as she takes a few steps closer to Miranda, but it's thin, artificial. Shepard raises a hand to stop her advance, but she only glares at Miranda, seeming to dare her to contradict her.

Miranda straightens her posture and puts on a standard neutral expression. “It wasn’t Cerberus. Not really,” she manages to say - of course Jack wouldn’t want Shepard to know what they were really arguing about. Too embarrassing, Miranda expects. Thank goodness the girl is as emotionally damaged as she is unpredictable. Better keep up the act, then. She inserts enough bite in her tone when she goes on to say, “But clearly _you_ were a mistake.”

“Screw you!” Jack snaps, reaching around Shepard to point a finger at Miranda’s face. Bit dramatic, but believable. “You’ve got no idea what they put me through! Maybe it’s time I showed you!”

“Enough!” Shepard barks, pushing Jack back by the shoulder and separating them more firmly. “Our mission is too important to let personal feelings get in the way.”

“Fuck your feelings. I just want her dead,” Jack growls as she says the first honest thing since Shepard came in the room.

Shepard sighs. “Could the two of you at _least_ put this crap aside until we kill the Collectors? Would that be too much to ask?”

Miranda shrugs as she stares coolly back at Jack. “I can put aside my differences. Until the mission’s over.” Jack smirks, her eyes hard.

“Sure, I’ll do my part. I’d hate to see her die before I get to filet her _myself_ ,” she bites out before she turns and leaves. Shepard lays a hand on her shoulder and they seem to have a conversation with their eyes before Jack moves it aside in a surprisingly gentle motion and goes, the whole exchange lasting about a second. Miranda takes a moment to look about the room and sighs at the mess - she’ll have to reorganize everything. Well, she’d been meaning to anyway.

“You okay?” Shepard asks, looking between Miranda and the door Jack had just marched through. Miranda nods and Shepard doesn’t push, thankfully.

Miranda places her chair back behind her desk and sits down. Her terminal isn't broken, which is a miracle. "EDI tell you to come here?"

"I was already on my way, but Joker did mention a 'disagreement'. Didn't really expect a full-on biotic brawl, though," Shepard says with a laugh. "I hope this ship is as stable as you say. You two keep this up, we'll be dead before we hit the relay."

"It won't happen again."

"If it does, could you maybe use the shuttle bay? Less chance of damaging the engine that keeps us flying."

"I'll keep that in mind."

“Great. Anyway, get ready. We’ll be at the Citadel in fifteen.”

“Are we recruiting someone?”

“Nope.” Shepard grins. “It’s time to get you some decent armor. Something without heels, hopefully.”

“Wait, really?” Miranda raises an eyebrow at her. “ _Now?_ ”

“Yeah, _now._ Put on something that isn’t a catsuit meet me and Kasumi on the bridge.”

“We’re bringing the thief to the Citadel?”

“I resent that.” Miranda keeps herself from jumping for the second time today when a voice rings out from beside Shepard before Kasumi makes herself visible. "That was a nice fight, by the way. Really convincing stuff."

"Convincing?" Shepard asks while Miranda clenches her fists from behind the desk.

"Ah, don't worry about it. Now, let’s get a move on! I haven’t gone shopping in ages!” She strides out of the room, Shepard moving to follow her before she turns to Miranda again.

“Oh, and make sure whatever you’re gonna wear doesn’t have an obvious Cerberus logo on it? Don’t wanna draw too much attention.”

“Fine. Have you got anything to wear?” Miranda doubts it - she’s never seen her in anything other than her armor or the standard Cerberus uniform she’s got on now.

“I’ve got it covered. See you in a minute!” Shepard waves before the door slides shut behind her. Miranda lets out a deep sigh - that was a lot. She'll have to deal with Jack breathing down her neck now, and for practically no reason. Jack's suspicions are unfounded and it's no surprise that the girl's paranoid. She'll have to watch herself around Shepard lest she gets a surprise biotic push out of the airlock. In the meantime, she'd better get dressed. She moves to her adjoining bedroom to throw on the full outfit she uses whenever she needs to be discreet on a mission waiting for her in her closet. She pulls on the old jeans and zips up the leather jacket before tying her hair up. She doesn’t think she’ll need the non-prescription glasses she keeps for the important undercover missions, but she takes them for safety.

She makes her way to the bridge, ignoring the double-takes she gets from the crew, and finds Kasumi there, but no Shepard. Kasumi is wearing her usual get-up, which is somewhat worrying. She smiles politely at her as she approaches and Miranda wonders if she should be swatting the air.

“Shepard’s not invisible, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Kasumi says, reading her mind in that eerie way she does. “She’ll be here in a sec. Just needs to borrow some shoes.”

“Borrow?” Miranda says, but the sound of heavy footsteps signals the answer to her question. She turns and freezes at the sight of Shepard walking up to them in a mess of clothes that barely counts as an outfit - a bright red sweatshirt over a pair of striped capris that seem to be straining against her muscles as she moves and what look like sneakers in a neon color that makes Miranda squint. Her hair is stuffed into a tight hat that serves as the cherry on this tacky sundae. Miranda doesn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

Kasumi apparently prefers the former, as she lets out short bursts of giggles behind her fist as Shepard makes her way toward them, grinning at the crew’s gaping. She stops at Miranda’s side and nods at her, giving Kasumi’s chortle-filled greeting a brief smirk.

“What the hell,” Miranda says instead of asking. Shepard glances down at herself like she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “What are you _wearing?_ ”

“A hodgepodge of random clothes donated by the crew,” Shepard says. “I asked around a couple days ago. This is actually the best combination, if you can believe that.”

“I can't,” Miranda says haltingly, unable to take her eyes off of this abomination. It’s not surprising that few people on the crew are Shepard’s size, but she would never have imagined _how_ few.  “How exactly is this supposed to be discreet?”

Shepard blinks at her before saying, “I have a hat,” and pointing at it helpfully. She switches to pointing at Miranda’s glasses and says, “Oh, yeah, almost forgot,” as she digs into the pocket of the sweatshirt and produces her own glasses, the frames circular and bright pink and very likely not something people wear normally. Miranda is at a loss for words. Thankfully, Moreau chooses that moment to announce that they’ve docked on the Citadel.

They make their way out of the ship when Miranda sees something sparkle in the corner of her eye. When she looks over, she finds Kasumi replaced by a girl who looks a bit like her, but off somehow. She’s a few years younger and wearing a simple black dress with just enough flashy accessories to allow her to blend in with the Citadel populace.

“Not all cloaks make you vanish,” she says when she catches Miranda’s stare. “Sometimes it’s better to hide in plain sight. Used an image of one of my cousins to make this one.”

“This is what your cousin looks like?” Shepard says, leaning over to get a look at her as they approach the elevator. “She’s cute.”

“I know, right?” Kasumi smiles. “This is my best guess as to what she would’ve looked like at twenty.” Shepard’s eyes widen fractionally at that and Miranda looks at the ground as the elevator doors close, leaving them in an enclosed space with the heavy silence that follows.

“Oh,” Shepard breathes, looking down as well. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, she was a good kid,” Kasumi says solemnly. “Too bad the disease got her. Didn’t even get to go to highschool.” Miranda can feel Shepard’s discomfort coming off of her in waves and the tension doesn’t get any thinner as they slowly ascend. Even Miranda’s getting a little fidgety. The silence is finally, blessedly, broken when Kasumi bursts out laughing.

“Kidding!” she cackles, pointing at both of their shocked expressions in turn. “Look at your faces! I don’t have any cousins, I just took an image of some random girl I saw on Omega and edited it. Oh my god, your  _faces_.”

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Shepard fumes, her irritation dampened slightly by her own laughter. Kasumi only laughs harder while Miranda rolls her eyes with a groan. They haven’t even gotten started and already she’s drained. She never should’ve left her office.

 

* * *

 

“I’m Commander Shepard and this is my favorite store on the Citadel,” Shepard says into the console. The Asari shop attendant thanks her, overjoyed and supplying her with ample discounts - just like all the others who’d gotten the same endorsement. Kasumi giddily looks through the items now on sale while she and Miranda browse the tech displays in the other side of the store.

“You’re quite the cad,” Miranda says lowly, but loudly enough for Shepard to hear. “This must be, what? The fifth store you’ve claimed was your favorite?” Shepard laughs, rubbing the back of her neck guiltily.

“Yeah, well. It makes them happy.”

“And _you_ get a generous discount. Very clever.”

“Aw, thanks. You look nice, by the way.” Miranda's glad she only falters for a second at that. “I mean, you always look nice, but this is a different sort of nice. I like it.”

Miranda’s face almost hurts from the effort to keep it impassive. She's used to having people praise her looks, sometimes right before they try to kill her, but none of them had ever sounded so relaxed about it. Usually, it's because they want something from her, but Shepard just drops the compliment on her like it's nothing. Somehow, that makes it all the heavier.

“I don’t know if I should believe that," she says once she's collected herself. "How do I know you haven’t said the same thing to five other people today?”

“Ooh, good point. I haven’t, though.”

“Sure.”

"It's true."

"Right."

“What’ll it take for you to believe me?” Shepard asks in jest, her eyes full of laughter as she smiles down at Miranda, who is not at all practically breathless. She turns away and resolutely stares at the console in front of her, reading and rereading the line of products.

“I don’t know that I can,” she answers in her best attempt at a level tone. She hears Shepard chuckle quietly next to her, feels her shoulders barely brush hers in their professional, but close, proximity. She watches her from the corner of her eye and sees her bend over to peer at the console like she’s trying to read the prices.

“Guess I’ll just have to try harder, then.” Shepard's voice is quiet and all too close. Miranda can just barely hear her steady breathing, can see her smiling face in her periphery. She would only have to turn her head slightly to come in contact with her chin.

“All done!” Kasumi rings out from behind them, finally succeeding in making Miranda start. Shepard doesn’t seem to notice as she goes to leave the store, talking over her shoulder as she goes.

“Time to get some armor! Let’s move, y’all!” Miranda follows quietly, Kasumi fiddling with her omni-tool as she falls into step next to her.

“Sorry about that,” Kasumi mutters, voice barely audible over the din of the busy shopping center.

“About what?"

“I interrupted the flirting. I waited ‘till there was a lull, but, still. Sorry.”

“We weren’t--” Miranda almost exclaims before lowering her voice again. “We weren’t _flirting_ , we were just talking.” Kasumi gives her a dubious look.

“Sure. Talking.”

“Yes.”

“Boy, I wish Shepard would talk to _me_ like that. I’d love to have a nice, long conversation about how pretty she thinks _I_ look.” Kasumi smirks while Miranda sputters. “I'm still wearing all my gear under this cloak, y'know. I hear all. Including what you and Jack were really fighting about in your office.” Miranda goes rigid even as she walks, glaring at her in askance.

"Don't worry, I won't say anything," Kasumi says idly. "I like to know things in case I need them in the future, but I rarely ever do. I won't get in the way."

Miranda huffs and looks away, her blush deepening while Kasumi cackles. Something in the thief's tone seemed too casual to be deceitful, so Miranda will have to trust that she'll keep her information to herself. She doesn't expect she'll ever be able to live it down, though.

But, they weren’t...flirting, were they? Maybe Shepard was, since that’s apparently something she does all the time, if those old interviews are anything to go by. Why would she flirt with her? Why would Miranda flirt back? _Did_ she flirt back? Jacks accusations prod at her and make her stomach twist.

No, of course not, she would never. Jack has no idea what's she's talking about, Miranda would _never_.

 

* * *

 

When they get to the place, the Salarian clerk bursts into tears at the sight of Shepard and she has to calm them down. It's clear that they know each other, from the way the clerk fusses over her like a relative and immediately wants to outfit her in a new model. After a lengthy conversation, Shepard introduces them to Miranda, who’s promptly whisked away to be measured by the store owner’s seemingly endless number of human assistants. They mumble to each other in what sounds like rapid-fire Swedish as they take her measurements. Shepard assures her that this is normal and all she needs to do is stay still. She then takes a datapad from one of the assistants and presses it several times before handing it back. The assistant scurries away without a word.

“What was that?” Kasumi asks before Miranda does - not that she can, as she’s not eager to be shushed by the busy assistants again.

“Checklist. I just marked what the armor needs to have,” Shepard answers while she lounges on one of the ancient-looking ottomans lining the nearby wall.

Miranda looks at her over her shoulder. “Shouldn’t _I_ be deciding what my armor--”

“Shush!” the oldest assistant hisses while they measure her head. Miranda scowls while Shepard seems to fight back a laugh.

“Don’t worry, I know what you need. Trust me.” Shepard gives her a winning smile that Miranda doesn’t quite melt at, but she doesn’t give any other protests either. All the work is done and Miranda can finally relax the rigid posture she’d adopted when the Swedish-muttering harpies had descended on her. Shepard talks to the store clerk some more and works out a time to pick up the finished armor. She then pays the bill, ignoring Miranda’s objections.

“You wouldn’t get anything _close_ to the kind of discount I have,” Shepard says, waving away her arguments. “Don’t worry, just consider it a gift.” Miranda purses her lips and Shepard’s grin widens, damn her.

They leave the store and Miranda’s mind is in turmoil - this is getting dangerous. It’s one thing to be caught allegedly flirting with someone who’s technically your commanding officer, it’s a whole other thing to accept expensive gifts from them. It’s entirely unprofessional, and she doesn’t even want to _think_ about what would happen if Jack finds out. Or if the Illusive Man does. She pushes the thought away, not ready to go down that road of possible consequences.

“Hey, since we’re out, we might as well get you some decent clothes,” Kasumi says eyeing Shepard’s current ones in amusement. “I think we’re attracting more attention than we would if you were in full armor.”

“We are _not_. I took off the glasses, I'm basically invisible,” Shepard says easily, but a cursory glance of their surroundings tells Miranda otherwise - at least three people are watching Shepard go by, and though they don't seem to recognize her, they do wince at her clashing colors. And those are only the ones who don’t politely turn away away once they notice Miranda looking back at them.

“She’s right, Shepard. You should shop for something less conspicuous,” she says.

“Plus, you wear the same thing everyday,” Kasumi adds, looking disgusted. “Seriously, if I have to see a body like yours wasted on some standard uniform that doesn’t even flatter those ridiculous legs, I’m gonna riot, I’m not kidding.”

Shepard makes a face that’s very close to a pout and says, “Fine. Let’s just grab a bunch of cheap t-shirts and call it a day.” Kasumi looks at her like she just suggested they have a shooting spree in the middle of the Citadel. “What?”

“ _Cheap t-shirts_. I’ve lost all respect for you.” Kasumi looks away from her dramatically while Shepard snickers. “We’re getting you some nice clothes and that’s that. Here’s a good place.” She grabs Shepard by the elbow and yanks her into the department store, ignoring her whines. Miranda follows, giving the stricken commander a mock-sympathetic look.

Kasumi drags her here and there, periodically taking a shirt or jacket off the rack and pressing it against Shepard for scrutiny. Shepard stands still and allows it like she’s done it a million times. She pulls a grimace when Miranda mentions as much.

“Yeah, well. Both my moms were very involved whenever I had to get new clothes for school,” she says while Kasumi examines a pair of jeans. “I grew out of my clothes quickly back then, so I had to do this a lot. Must’ve been hell.”

So, she _does_ remember her mothers. Did she not before? Miranda’s been looking at Shepard’s inbox occasionally, unbeknownst to both her and Jacob, and she hasn’t seen a reply to that last message. Curious. But how to approach it?

“Have you heard anything from them?” Kasumi asks while she browses another row of jeans. Good, she's glad Kasumi's the one to ask. Something like that coming from her would've been suspicious.

“Yeah, kind of. They’re fine,” Shepard answers a little vaguely as she rearranges the clothes in her arms. Kasumi seems satisfied with that answer and Shepard doesn’t explain further, even if Miranda’s burning with unanswered questions. Kasumi throws another pair of pants in Shepard’s direction before jetting off to another part of the store, looking determined.

“Better just let her go. We’d only slow her down,” Shepard says, smiling tiredly.

“You’re probably right.” Miranda idly touches the jackets in the rack in front of her. “Have you been talking to your mothers?”

Shepard adjusts her hold on the clothes. “Uh huh.”

“Really?”

“Oh my god, you’ve been looking in my inbox.”

Miranda whips her head in Shepard’s direction, eyes wide. “How did--”

“Oh my _god!_ ” Shepard’s mouth drops open in shock even as she laughs out loud. “Oriana was right! Holy shit, I can’t believe this.”

“Wait, Oriana? What does she have to do with this?”

“We talk sometimes. She suspects you've been snooping and she was right on the money.” Shepard shakes her head at her in disappointment. “You’ve been reading my messages. _Wow_.”

"You've been talking to Oriana? What about?" Miranda doesn't mind the idea of Shepard talking to her sister, depending on the topic. God, she hopes Oriana doesn't talk about her, she _really_ doesn't need Shepard to know about a whole lot of things.

"I think that's between me and her," Shepard says, smiling wryly at her.

Damn. She'll have to get it out of Ori later. "Yes, fine, I've been reading your messages. Are you angry?”

“A little, but I’m mostly unsurprised. You’re kinda creepy.” Miranda balks.

“I'm not creepy!”

“ _Well..._ ” Shepard stretches the word, eyeing her warily.

“ _Kasumi’s_ the creepy one, with her whole invisible thing.”

“At least when _she_  ogles me, she has the decency to make it so I can’t see her doing it.”

Miranda narrows her eyes. “What are you implying?”

“I think you know what I’m implying.”

“I don’t ogle you.”

“Yeah, you do. It’s okay.”

“I don’t!”

“Miranda, please.” Shepard rolls her eyes. “I always know when someone’s checking me out. It’s a gift. Plus, Jacob told me.”

Miranda groans, covering her face to hide the blush that’d gotten out of control at some point while Shepard chuckles. This is very likely the most embarrassed Miranda has ever been in her entire life. She could really use Kasumi’s cloak to vanish right now, preferably off the face of the universe. But, before that, she'd like to kill Jacob, she should remember to do that when they get back to the Normandy.

“Aw, I’m sorry.” She hears Shepard say before she feels her bump her shoulder with her own. “I shouldn't tease you so much. Hey, let me make it up to you.”

“How?” Miranda says, voice muffled.

“You can ask me any question you want. Anything at all.” She lowers her hands enough to see Shepard bending over slightly to look at her, face close, but not close enough to make her too nervous.

Shepard smiles encouragingly at her and she gives her a suspicious look in return. “Anything?”

“Yup, I do it all the time. Everybody in the crew gets two, but you get a free pass.” She waggles her eyebrows in a manner that makes Miranda almost snort. “Go for it. As many questions as you like, no holding back.” She gets a free pass. A privilege given to just her. Does Shepard think of her as above the rest of the Normandy crew? Miranda remembers Jack's little smirk and feels a flash of irritation.

No. Stop it. Shepard’s just trying to appease her. She’s not special. Miranda adjusts her ponytail primly, sparing Shepard a appraising glance while she waits patiently.

“Why haven’t you replied to your mother’s message?” Shepard grimaces - looks like she’d been trying to avoid that. Too bad.

“I immediately regret this,” Shepard says with a sigh. “Alright, fine. I haven’t replied because I don’t know what to say.” Miranda glances at her to see her fiddling with the sleeve of a sweater hanging near by, her eyes far away. “I barely remembered my moms before she sent that message. I’m not myself yet, and I don’t want her to know that. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be that person again.”

“Is the person you are now so bad?” Miranda surprises herself with both the question and the fact that she already has an answer. She might have failed to revive the famous Commander Shepard, but she never liked that woman anyway. She was plastic and showy and the woman Miranda _did_ manage to bring back is just as good, if not better.

“I don't know. We'll see.” Shepard slants her a smile and Miranda’s certain that she’s better. She'll keep that thought to herself, for the moment. “I've read about them, though. My moms, I mean. One of them retired, but the one who sent me the message is still the captain of her ship. She turned down an admiral's star, can you believe that?"

"Right, I read about that."

"She's so cool," she says, beaming with pride. "Alright, next question. Ease up this time, please.”

“Alright.” Miranda sends her a sharp smile and Shepard leans away in fear. “Your file says your eyes were donated. Who did you get them from?”

“I don’t know. No, really, it’s not a memory thing, I didn’t actually know him. I know he was a man and that he was a soldier, but that’s it.”

“I’m surprised you know _that_ much. How are your memories?”

“Getting better everyday. I’m a little fuzzy on some things, but that might just be me.”

“Still forgetting people?”

“A few. I remember most, though. Just not a hundred percent on random family members and maybe a childhood pet or two. Three? I don’t know.”

“What’s it like, being alive again?” Miranda asks, looking up at her. Shepard lets out a long breath, her shoulders dropping as she does. All at once, she looks old and worn, her eyes growing dark as they close.

“I don’t know if I can talk about that,” she says quietly, opening her eyes and giving Miranda something between a smile and a wince. “It’s--I don’t think about it. I can’t.” Miranda nods, her chest aching at the look on her face.

“I did thank you for bringing me back, right?” Shepard asks.

“Yes, you did. A little after we met, actually.” Miranda cringes at the memory, remembering the fight that had ensued and the apology she’s yet to give.

“Good. I meant it.” She looks at Shepard to find her looking back, smiling in that same soft, open way she did in the mess hall and it pulls at her again. She looks away. “Any more questions? Or have you decided to have mercy on me?”

“Not yet.” Shepard groans and Miranda lets out a snicker. “Speaking of mercy, did you ever find out who that ‘Major’ was?” She’s surprised when Shepard lets out a bark of laughter.

“Oh, boy, did I. It didn’t take long either. I could recognize his writing style anywhere.”

“‘His’?”

“My brother. He’s Major Mercy.” Shepard grins when Miranda gives her an incredulous look. “I know, right? Such a drama queen, that guy.”

“You have a brother?” There was nothing in the files about her having a brother. It’d been alluded to in the news and gossip, but no one had ever brought it up again, at least not without the commander’s icy glare forcing them to change the subject. She hadn't really looked into it, figuring it wasn't important if Shepard never talked about it.

“It’s not like I mentioned him much,” she says with a shamed little frown. “Kind of a dick move on my part, but, well.”

“How can you be sure it’s him?”

“The number of times I’ve had to proofread his columns in high school? Trust me, I know his work. The guy still doesn’t know how to use a semicolon.”

“Wow,” Miranda murmurs. “I’d always wondered why Major Mercy vanished after you died. Now it makes sense.”

“Right? That was nice of him,” Shepard says fondly. “He still writes, though. Nothing about me, just some criticisms of the Alliance here and there. He started using ‘Shepard’ again. That was surprising.”

“Did he not before?”

“Nah, he went by his original surname in college. Oh, he’s adopted,” Shepard adds when Miranda furrows her brow in confusion. “My moms took him in when he was two, same age as me. We’re the Shepard twins.”

“Twins?”

Shepard grins. “Yeah, twins. Not so much anymore, though. I wonder if he’s still mad at me...” She looks up, seeming deep in her own thoughts. It gives Miranda time to put a lid on the yearning that’s coming dangerously close to spilling out of her. She hates the idea of not knowing something about Shepard’s life. She wants to ask every question, get every fact that no one else does. She wants _more_.

“Hey, Shep, check this out!” She turns as Kasumi springs over to them, holding up a sleek leather jacket. “I love it. You need it. Buy it.”

“Okay.” Shepard takes the jacket obediently. She looks up at something past Kasumi for a moment before going towards it. Miranda sees her grab it off a rack before she walks back to them, holding a blue button-down that must be made of the galaxy’s entire supply of plaid. “I like this one.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised you don’t already own a flannel shirt,” Kasumi says, resigned. “I suppose every butch ought to have at least one.”

“I’m butch?”

“Don’t be silly, of course you are. Now come on, you should pick your own underwear.” Shepard beams, flattered, and walks off with her. Miranda compartmentalizes her disappointment and follows.

 

* * *

 

"I say we should stop somewhere to eat. Not to knock on Gardner's cooking, but I'm feeling like some actual food," Kasumi says, looking at the several restaurants lining the walls across from them.

"That reminds me," Shepard says, "I gotta get some ingredients for him. Where's the Zakera Cafe?" Kasumi leads them towards an escalator and they make their way, Miranda trudging along behind them and only faintly paying attention.

Jack's words keep needling at her, along with Kasumi and even Oriana's teasing. She doesn't know how much longer she can deny what she's feeling towards Shepard, doesn't think she has the ability anymore - especially since everyone seems to have caught on. Is she really that obvious? Enough that even Jack, who probably rarely spares her a glance, can see it? Enough that _Jacob_ notices that she's stopped treating Shepard as a science experiment, as an investment, and started seeing her as something else?

At the very least, he's definitely caught her staring and probably giggled to himself. The bastard. Miranda’s so deep in her own thoughts that she almost bumps into Shepard, who’d stopped walking at some point, standing stock-still and staring at something in front of her.

Miranda follows her gaze and sees what looks like a virtual poster, old and barely playing properly. It’s easy to see what it’s advertising, even through the smudges and the flickering: Commander Shepard of two years ago with her immaculate hair and dazzling cheekbones, saluting at the viewer over and over again with her classic confident smile.

“What’re we looking at?” Kasumi asks, moving around Shepard to see. “Wow, I didn’t know there were any posters of you left, with the whole Cerberus thing. I heard they even stopped using you for recruitment ads.”

“Looks like this one was left behind,” Miranda says, watching it play in a loop. She looks up at Shepard’s face to see her looking dazed again, her eyes unfocused and seeming to look through the poster. “Shepard?”

She doesn’t respond, only stares with her mouth slightly open and her body oddly still. Miranda waves a hand in her face. She doesn’t come back like last time. Kasumi snaps her fingers in front of her eyes. No response.

“What’s wrong with her?” Miranda asks, stepping in front of her and trying to block Shepard’s view of the poster, but she isn’t quite tall enough. Kasumi gives the commander a long look before her eyes widen.

“She’s dissociating,” she says in what sounds like a sudden realization before turning to peer at the poster.

“She’s what?”

“C’mon, we should get her out of here.” Kasumi grabs Shepard’s hand and starts walking, pulling her along with her. Shepard lets herself be pulled, looking straight ahead and still not saying a word. Miranda keeps her eyes on her face and hates how lost she looks, how she doesn’t seem to be aware of anything around her. Kasumi leads them to an empty corridor and positions Shepard against a wall, placing her there carefully. Shepard continues to do nothing, only stares at the ground in an almost bewildered state.

“She’s far gone,” Kasumi says, one hand on Shepard’s shoulder to steady her. “We need to ground her somehow.”

“How do we do that?” Miranda doesn’t care to know the details of what exactly is happening to Shepard, she just needs to know how to make it stop. Kasumi thinks for a moment before answering.

“She’s non-responsive, so we can’t do it the easy way. Hang on.” She brings her hands to Shepard’s cheeks, carefully guiding her to meet her eye. “Shep? Shepard, it’s Kasumi. Can you hear me?” Shepard only looks back at her, eyes unseeing.

Kasumi drops her hands. "Damn. Okay, maybe we can use a stimuli.”

“Like?” Miranda’s voice shakes ever so slightly - not enough to break it, but enough to be noticed, judging from the sympathetic look Kasumi gives her.

“Pain is a popular one. It usually works, but there’s no guarantee.”

“How do we do it?”

“We just have to hurt her, not enough to really wound, just enough to--” Kasumi doesn’t get to finish her sentence before Miranda raises a hand and slaps Shepard hard across her face. 

Shepard's head whips to the left from the force of the slap and Miranda's hand stings. Kasumi's gaping silently at her, her eyes wide and slowly moving to stare incredulously at Miranda before she hisses, "What the  _hell_?"

"You said we had to hurt her!"

"I meant a pinch or something! Nobody told you to smack her!"

"Well, you should've been more specific," Miranda snaps. She's dismayed enough at her own actions, she doesn't need Kasumi to tell her she let her panic make her decisions. "How did you know what was happening?"

"I had a friend who had this problem," she says, not quite looking at Miranda. "It got better over the years and I could bring him back, but when they got bad...well, they got bad. But I never _slapped_ him."

"It seemed like the best course of action at the time."

"Oh, sure. I know when _I_ have to drag someone out of a dissociative state, I _always_ resort to assault." They hear a cough and take a break from bickering to look at Shepard. She's blinking, strands of hair that had fallen out from under her hat strewn across her slightly reddened cheek. She slowly turns to look at them both, her eyes clearer and her eyebrows high on her forehead.

Kasumi places a hand on her shoulder. "Shep? You with us?"

"Yeah? Why, where did I go?" she asks, her soft voice doing wonders to calm Miranda's nerves. Kasumi gives her a quick rundown of what happened, Shepard getting more and more confused as she does until she suddenly sucks in a breath through her nose.

"I remember," she breathes. "This used to happen all the time. Shit, what triggered me?"

"You were looking at a poster of yourself."

" _Shit_. This is a whole 'nother world of issues." Shepard laughs darkly, rubbing a hand against her face and wincing. "Why does my face hurt? Did I get in a fight?"

They get the ingredients quickly and pick up Miranda's armor before going straight back to the ship. Shepard had been going in and out, contributing little to the conversation. Miranda had kept an eye on her the whole time, but she'd appeared mostly present, at least until they got back on the Normandy. She'd gone straight to her room, leaving Miranda and Kasumi to go their separate ways, and didn't resurface for hours.

Miranda keeps busy - working on reports, checking on Oriana, and a lot of other work that doesn't strictly-speaking need to be done right now, but she has to keep busy. If she doesn't distract herself, she'll think of Shepard, and if she thinks of Shepard, she'll worry, and she really doesn't need to sit her arguing with herself about whether or not she should go up to her room and check on her only to end up doing nothing. The very thought of such a useless mental marathon exhausts her. So, she avoids it and keeps working. If her mind wanders from ship specifications to something else that makes her briefly glance at the ceiling, she doesn't let it stay there.

A few hours of the same work forces her to move, standing and stretching her stiff muscles. After that, she moves to get back to it when the case sitting in the corner of her bedroom catches her eye. She stares at it for a long moment before marching towards it. She unlocks the case and opens it up to see her new armor packed neatly inside, solid and gleaming.

She didn't get a good look at it when they were picking it up, as they'd rushed to get Shepard back to the ship. Now that she has the time to, she must say, she's impressed. She'd thought very little of the random Citadel store, but that Salarian does some good work. She pulls out the pieces one by one and sets them down on the bed, taking the time to stroke the sleek black material. Once she's got them all out, there's nothing to do but try it on. She hasn't had to wear armor like this in a long time, but it isn't overly complicated. She pulls on the gauntlets and boots and only struggles a little with the chest-piece before it clicks into place. She holds the helmet between her hands and peers at it before sliding it over her head. Once that's done, she looks at the full-length mirror leaning against the far wall and gasps.

She looks...solid. Bigger, even taller. It's a little hard to walk at first, but she gets used to it quickly. Her footsteps are heavy and her every move is noisy with whirs and clanks, but she just might be overly aware of it because she's so accustomed to moving quietly. This armor is likely not great for stealth, but she can't help but stare at herself in awe. She's intimidating, sturdy. Shepard's taste is obvious in the smooth, military lines and the practical fit - not so loose that she risks injury but not too tight that it pinches or she suffocates.

She looks like a soldier. Normally, that would disturb her, but she doesn't mind it too much now. She likes it. Her door springs open behind her and Jacob ambles into the room, tensing at the sight of her before she yanks off her helmet.

"Whoa. Kasumi said you got new armor, but I'll be honest," he says as he moves further inside, "I thought it'd just be the same thing you always wear. Glad to see I was wrong."

Miranda says, "It'll do. How hard do you think these gloves are?"

"I dunno. Very? They look hard."

"Great." Miranda gives him a swift punch in the gut, not too hard, just enough to leave him doubled-over and gasping. She pulls back while he's trying to catch his breath and says, "That was for telling Shepard I _ogle_ her."

"To be fair," he wheezes. "I didn't actually use the word 'ogle'. And I was kidding. But I guess I wasn't off the mark."

Damn it. Miranda scowls as he straightens, a hand on his stomach and smiling even as he winces. "That was a good one. Been a while since I've seen you use your fists."

"Well, I'm glad I got to indulge you."

"Ha. So, you _do_ ogle her, huh?" Miranda glares at him. "Okay, fine I won't say 'ogle' anymore."

Miranda sighs. "Maybe I do. I shouldn't."

"Why not?"

"You know why not. We can't afford to get distracted."

"Sure, but she wouldn't be just a distraction, would she?" Miranda shrugs and Jacob tilts his head sympathetically. "Have you given it any thought or are you doing that thing where you ignore your feelings until they blow up?"

"I don't do that."

"Yeah, you do. You did it with us and now you're doing it with Shepard. So to speak." Miranda makes a face that shows how very unimpressed she is with his humor and he raises his hands in surrender. "I'm not saying you have to consider it, but it might bother you more if you don't."

She purses her lips and lets out another long breath. "Maybe you're right. I'll...think about it later."

"Uh huh. Just be sure you actually do." He gives her shoulder a firm pat that she feels through the armor. "Well, I'm gonna get going. Unless you wanna test your armor out on me some more?" Miranda raises a fist and gives him a calculating look. She laughs as he rushes out of her office, the door sliding shut behind him.

Miranda looks at herself a bit longer before taking off the armor and putting all the pieces back in their proper places in the case. She feels tiny in a way she never used to without the armor. How odd. In any case, she's taken a long enough break and should get back to it. She sits at her desk again, but doesn't resume her work like she should. Instead, she looks up at the ceiling the way she'd periodically been doing since they got back onto the ship and wonders. Her eyes fall to her terminal and she logs onto the extranet. After an hour of seemingly endless reading and videos, she's interrupted by a voice coming through the speakers above.

 _"Incoming transmission from the Illusive Man, Operative Lawson,"_ EDI's mechanized tones rings in the room.

Miranda straightens up at the sound of his name out of habit. "Shouldn't you be telling Shepard that?"

 _"I apologize for the misunderstanding,"_ EDI says. _"The Illusive Man did not ask to speak with the commander. He wishes to speak with_ you _."_

 

* * *

SEARCH: dissociation

SEARCH: dissociation trauma/MODIFIED/ptsd

SEARCH: dissociation prevention

SEARCH: Shepard Memorial Plaza

SEARCH: Shepard family/MODIFIED/Shepard mothers

SEARCH: Shepard journalist/MODIFIED/journalists named Shepard/MODIFIED/articles by journalists named Shepard 

SEARCH: Carter Yamazaki Shepard 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I originally hated this chapter, but after a long break, I kind of like it? I fixed a lot of it, but it's not as terrible as I thought. Nice. Also, please don't ever slap someone who's dissociating. This is not a good thing to do and I am not endorsing it.
> 
> Carter will be expanded on later. You're gonna love him, he's great :D


	11. Fractures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY! oh my god i'm sorry i can't believe i went this long without updating. i have no excuse i'm just a colossal lazy fuck and i apologize. the next chapter is coming up really really soon I Swear i've got it planned out and everything. for now though pls enjoy this thrilling(?) installment of space ladies in love
> 
> ALSO! sorry for not mentioning this but i edited the 2nd chapter to state that Ashley did not die on the virmire mission. my shep saved everyone because let's not pretend that choosing between her and Kaidan wasn't just a game mechanic that had nothing to do w/ the actual story ok? ok great

“The commander has been successful in retrieving the IFF, then?”

“Yes. EDI is currently working on the protocols to get it integrated successfully into the Normandy's systems.”

“Good,” the Illusive Man says with a breath of smoke. “With luck, this will get us through the Omega-4 relay and take the fight to the Collectors on our own terms.”

“I assure you, it’ll be done,” Miranda says with a nod.

“I don’t doubt it. I’ve been told you have a geth onboard.”

“Ah, yes, but it isn’t activated,” she hastens to say. “The commander brought it in. She’s convinced it’ll be an asset.”

“Really,” He raises his cigarette to his lips again, but Miranda can still see his faint smirk. “She should go ahead and activate it, then.”

“Is that wise?” she asks despite her better sense. She isn’t entirely surprised the Illusive Man would take such a risk - she remembers being stranded on the ‘abandoned’ Collector ship all too well - but this seems an entirely different case altogether.

“It's not necessarily the decision I would have made,” he admits, blowing out another cloud of smoke. “But this is Shepard’s call. If this geth is willing to fight the Collectors, then we can use it on the team. Just make sure that EDI is adequately protected against any hacking attempts.”

“Of course.” She pulls up her omni-tool and makes a note of it. EDI should be fine, she’s advanced enough to detect and handle any malicious software, but it never hurts to be careful. She considers giving the job to Tali - even if she _has_ been nothing but cold and borderline hostile towards her and every other Cerberus operative, she may jump at the chance to outsmart a geth. She quickly sends a message to Shepard to have her ask Tali - it's unlikely she'll read it right now, but it'll be there waiting for her when she's ready. She doesn’t expect a reply, however, and jumps a little when her omni-tool lights up again just as she’d retracted it.

**[Cdr Shepard: ok.]**

The message is simple, but Miranda's surprised she even got it. As far as she knows, Shepard is in her quarters and recovering from the deep dissociative state she'd been in. From what she's read about dissociation during her light research on the extranet, it usually takes a little longer to come back from that. Miranda didn't think she'd read her message, much less send something back.

Miranda relaxes - Shepard's alright, then. Or at least as alright as she's going to be right now. She needn't have worried.

"Something the matter?" Miranda's eyes snap up at the Illusive Man's voice. He must've been staring at her the whole time while she'd been staring at her arm like an idiot.

“Sorry,” Miranda puts the omni-tool away and stands at attention. “That was just Shepard. We’ll make sure the geth won’t breach our systems.”

“And how _is_ our asset?” he asks. “Has she been functioning as well as I’ve been told?”

“She has,” Miranda answers easily. “Even more so, I would say. Not even dying seems to slow her down.”

“That’s good to hear. You’ve been doing an excellent job making her trust us,” he says. “I had expected Jacob to be the one to get her to open up, but I’m pleasantly surprised with this development.”

Miranda only blinks even though her heart is very nearly pounding out of her rib cage. “Thank you, sir.”

“Keep it up. The more she loosens up, the more focused she’ll be on the mission.” He takes another drag of his cigarette and blows, the smoke almost totally obscuring his face. His cybernetic eyes are still clearly visible, though, glowing eerily through the fog. “I expect you to do _whatever_ it takes to keep her comfortable. Is that understood?”

Miranda doesn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir. You can count on it.”

“Keep me updated. You’re dismissed.” The connection is disabled and he vanishes. She’s back in the comm room as it begins to reconstruct itself back into the briefing room. She moves to lean against the wall, her mind racing to comprehend what just happened.

The Illusive Man just insinuated that she’s been acting this way towards Shepard to...make her trust Cerberus? To keep her focused on the mission? Has this all been some kind of emotional manipulation to earn Shepard’s favor and get the job done?

Of _course_. Yes, that has to be it, it _has_ to be. All this time, all those things Miranda had done and felt without really knowing why - it was all for the mission. Even Jacob's in on it, if the Illusive Man had assumed he would be. Of course she has to keep Shepard comfortable, she can’t have her acting like Tali or Jack. She’s the most important person on this ship, it stands to reason that she’d be the most calm. Keeping her calm was Miranda’s job all along.

She lets out a long breath and feels the tension she’d been carrying for months go with it. She’s okay. She doesn’t have feelings for Shepard. She’s okay.

 

* * *

 

The geth seems to be settling well on the ship, an observation that Miranda had never expected to have. The portion of the Normandy’s crew that isn’t intensely loyal to the commander is understandably wary and generally avoids the AI Core. Luckily for them, the geth rarely, if ever, leaves that room and work mostly proceeds as normal. Hardly anyone even mentions the fact that they’re now sharing a space with a killer synthetic that could turn on them at any moment. There _was_ that incident EDI reported that involved Tali drawing a gun on the geth before the commander intervened, but that’s to be expected.

Honestly, Miranda would love to give the thing away for Cerberus to tinker with, but she knows Shepard would never go for it. She’s not too worried that the commander has somehow managed to form a bond with the machine, but, knowing her, it isn’t that far-fetched. She’s given it a _name_ , for god’s sake.

Miranda is going up to her quarters now, prepared for another biotic training session. There’d been too many missions and too much to do lately, they haven’t had the chance to practice. They’re all currently on standby while EDI works out the IFF, though, so now is as good a time as any.

She approaches the door and knocks. No one answers. She knocks again - nothing. Maybe she’s in the bathroom?

“ _Pardon me, Operative Lawson_ ,” EDI’s voice chimes. “ _If you’re looking for the commander, she’s in the shuttle bay with Operative Taylor. They appear to sparring._ " Sparring? That doesn't bode well. She quickly thanks EDI and hops back onto the elevator to go down to the shuttle bay.

Once she’s there, the doors spring open and she feels the buzz of biotics in the air. She walks out and spots them just before Shepard swings a kick to Jacob’s head, which he blocks with an arm. He’s quick to return with a biotic pulse and she’s thrown back, almost hitting the ground before she rights herself in the air, going bright blue and landing on her bare feet. Neither of them seem to notice her and Shepard charges, a grin threatening to split her sweaty face in half.

Well. This is pretty much what she expected. She’s seen Jacob use his biotics this way, but not often. He’s said it’s too much of a strain and he’s rarely involved in hand-to-hand combat anyway. The way he’s moving now, though, it’s almost like he fights like this everyday. Shepard isn’t far behind, her solid and slightly glowing punches and kicks giving Jacob a run for his money. They seem to be having a ball, from the way they laugh at every connected hit even as they wince from the impact. They look to be on even ground, physically, both Alliance-trained soldiers and both tall and athletic, even if Shepard has a couple of inches on Jacob. Miranda can’t say who would win in a real fight, if they were to ever have one.

Then again, she’s having a hard time concentrating. It’s hard to focus on the actual fight when there’s a parade of muscles happening right in front of her. Shepard is a force, enormous in every sense of the word and making the most of her long arms and longer legs. Miranda doesn’t think she’s gotten any bigger since the last time she’d seen her shirtless, but she wouldn’t be surprised. Her sensible sports bra is soaked in what perspiration that isn’t rolling down her rippling abs and into her loose sweatpants. Beads of sweat cover her face and curl the strands of hair that have fallen out of her ponytail, and it should be disgusting, but Miranda finds herself enthralled. She’s giving off a faint blue light as she fights, but even if she weren’t, Miranda thinks she’d still be glowing.

She gives her head a hard shake. Calm down. She’s only doing this for the mission. She’s only thinking like this because she’s getting caught up in the act. She should save it for when she’s actually talking to Shepard, that way it’s put to good use.

“Quit knocking me down, asshole!” Shepard barks from the ground where she’s been sent sprawling for the third time in the past two minutes.

“Learn how to stand your ground and I’ll think about it,” Jacob replies, hands on his narrow hips and looking down at her smugly. Shepard’s glare breaks and she laughs breathlessly, getting Jacob started and making him drop on the floor beside her rather than to keep standing on shaking legs. Miranda watches them giggle like children for a second longer, not even trying to understand any of it, before making her presence known and walking over. Shepard hears her first and turns to look, her smile growing at the sight of her.

”Oh, hey!” she calls, raising an arm in a wave. Miranda only shakes her head at her with a wry smile before turning her attention to an exhausted Jacob.

“Is this some kind of Alliance thing or do I have to be worried you’ll kill each other?” she asks, tilting her head at him. He laughs weakly and tries valiantly to sit up. He gives up with a groan and falls on his back again, spread eagle with his eyes closed and his chest heaving.

“We were working out normally before this,” Shepard says helpfully, though her own voice is breathy. “Then one of us, I can’t remember who, wanted to try sparring. As you can imagine, that was a really, _really_ bad idea.”

”Huh. And whose idea was it to fight with biotics?” Shepard pulls off what looks like her best attempt at a shrug, her shoulders barely raising a few inches. “Right. Well, get up.”

Shepard lets out a whine. “But I’m tired. And the floor’s so cold.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you decided to exhaust your body and your amp port. Now your training session with me will be _really_ grueling.”

Miranda knows she’s being harsh, but Shepard doesn’t seem to notice. She only grins and springs up, getting to her feet with a considerable amount of difficulty if her trembling legs are anything to go by. “I just remembered, I wanted to show you something.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll show you in my room. I’m gonna take a shower and try not to collapse. Meet me there in twenty?” Miranda wants to ask further, but she knows she’s probably not going to get an explanation, so she just nods. Shepard winks at her, actually _winks_ , and hobbles away. She stops next to what looks like a cooler and pulls out two juice boxes and another couple of those candy bars she likes so much.

“JT! Heads up!” she calls, raising a bar in the air. Jacob raises his arm straight up, palm open, and Shepard lobs the bar right into his waiting hand. She does the same with the juice box and Jacob catches both easily before dropping his arm, eyes still closed. He blindly rips open the bar and takes a bite, practically moaning as he chews, and Shepard steps into the elevator and heads up to her quarters.

“You’re both ridiculous,” Miranda says to Jacob, who only nods, much to her exasperation. “And JT? What?”

“It’s something called a ‘nickname’. Sometimes people give those to each other,” he answers with exaggerated patience. “See, my name is Jacob Taylor, right? So, ‘JT’ stands for the first letter of--”

“Shut up, I know what it stands for.” Miranda aims a none-too-gentle kick to his side that makes him yelp. “I meant why is she giving you a nickname? Do you have one for her?”

“Besides ‘behemoth’? Not really.” He takes a thoughtful bite of his bar and rubs at his ribs through his tank top. “She says I can call her by her first name, but I can’t. Too weird.”

“She does?”

“Yeah, but I’m sticking to Behemoth.” He finally opens his eyes to glance at her. “Why? You want a nickname, too?”

“It’d certainly help,” she says. “Good work getting her to give you one, though. Looks like you’re winning her over as well as I am.”

Jacob stops chewing and furrows his brow up at her. “Excuse me?”

Miranda blinks. “You’re getting her to trust us, aren’t you? Like I am.”

“Who’s ‘us’?”

“Cerberus, of course,” Miranda says with a little laugh. “Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

Jacob stares at her for a long moment, his face frozen in confusion. He sits up gingerly, actually making it this time, and rests his arms on his bent knees.

“No, Miranda, that’s _not_ what I’m doing,” he says firmly, in that same disappointed tone he had when she first fought with Shepard over her replaced implant. “I’m not… _getting_ her to do anything. We’re friends.”

Miranda shakes her head. “No, you’re not. You can’t be, there’s too much riding on this mission for you to be _friends_.” Her voice comes out a little more condescending that she wants, but she barrels on. “ _You're_ the one who said I had to 'make nice' to make sure this mission is successful.”

"That was--" His face grows even more bewildered. "Miranda that was _months_ ago! I told you that so you could use it to start getting to know her, not to convince her to join our cause!"

“It doesn't matter what I'm doing, so long as it gets results.” Miranda crosses her arms again, boring into Jacob with a glare because he has to be being obtuse on purpose, he can’t honestly think they’re doing anything other than going through the motions to convince Shepard that she should be on their team. “The more comfortable she is with us, the better she’ll fight, and we _need_ her to stop the Collectors. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Jacob doesn’t tell her. He only stares at her again, his expression more concerned than puzzled now. He stands up and he isn't on unsteady feet anymore, but his expression doesn’t change.

“What happened?” he asks, surprising Miranda with his softer tone. “You went to see the Illusive Man, right? What’d he say to you?”

Now it’s Miranda’s turn to be confused. She meets his gaze and says, “Nothing you shouldn’t already know.” He shakes his head like he knows she’s avoiding the question and she looks away. “In any case, just keep up the good work. We’re getting close to the end.” Jacob looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. She turns and leaves, feeling his disapproving stare on her back the whole while. They’re still burning into her even after there’s an elevator and three floors between her and Jacob, but she ignores the deep-seated uneasiness that they bring as she walks into the commander’s unlocked room.

She’s too early, she knows it. She hears the shower running, so she decides to wait on the sofa. It’s a long while before Shepard finally shows up, damp and clean with wet hair curling out and combed back and off her forehead. She pads into the room on bare feet and beams when she sees Miranda there.

“Okay, so,” she says with no preamble. She moves to one of the nightstands on either side of her bed and pulls a single feather out of the drawer. “Watch this.” She stares at the feather with noticeably less rigid posture and the air around it shifts. The familiar sound of biotics hums in the room and the feather is bathed in a blue light that wraps around her hand and lines her frame. She takes a breath and releases both it and the feather.

The feather endures. It floats in front of her, unhurt and rotating leisurely. Miranda looks from it to Shepard’s face, seeing nothing but relaxed focus in her eyes. Her biotics are calm and steady. She is in control.

“Right?” she says, as if she’d read Miranda’s mind.

“Very impressive,” Miranda agrees. Shepard smiles at her, glowing a brighter blue and floating the feather around easily between her hands.

“Remember what you said about imagining the feather is a child? It actually works!”

Miranda scoffs. “I was kidding!”

Shepard laughs. “I know, but it reminded me that I used to make my cousins fly around when I was a kid and how much control that required. After that, it all fell into place.”

“You actually used your biotics on _children_?”

“Well, yeah, they asked,” Shepard says, like it’s completely normal to use a force that could crush boulders and snap a man’s neck as a toy. “Only one of them broke his arm, but it was his own fault. I told him not to move.”

Miranda snorts, actually snorts like she hasn’t in years and that seems to shock Shepard enough to lose focus for a moment before she hastily regains control, catching the feather mid drop. Miranda laughs out loud at the look on her face, covering her mouth and wishing her laugh wasn’t quite so embarrassing. Shepard doesn’t seem to mind, only chuckles along with her with one arm still half-raised and keeping hold of the flying feather.

“Oh, god, stop, stop, I’m gonna tear it apart,” she gasps out while the feather shakes in her biotic field. They reign in their amusement and Miranda can feel her smile still sitting on her face, but she doesn’t care enough to put it away, not with Shepard smiling back at her so easily. The commander shifts her stance and moves the feather toward her.

“Catch,” she says as she sends it floating toward her and Miranda flares up to receive it. She raises a glowing hand and the feather stills, kept afloat by the combined efforts of both their powers. Their biotics make contact, blending together and buzzing against each other. Miranda can feel Shepard’s pressing up against hers and it’s strange. Intimate. She glances at Shepard’s face and finds her already looking at her, her eyes soft and all too warm. Warm like the humming biotics and her implant as it practically reaches towards Shepard’s. She’s touching her like she never has before, for all that Miranda’s touched her everywhere when she was rebuilding her. Almost like they’re holding hands.

The feather falls apart, biotics spiking through it violently and sending bits of it in the air as Miranda draws back her powers. Shepard does the same and the feather slowly plummets to the floor in pieces.

“Damn,” Shepard says with a sigh. “Guess I need some more work, huh?” Miranda is only a beat late with her nod.

Right, it was Shepard’s biotics that destroyed the feather. Of course it was. Miranda has mastered this exercise a million times over, it couldn’t have been her. It couldn’t have.

“Did you lose focus at some point?” she asks, relaxing in her seat.

“I don’t think so, but I wouldn’t be surprised. I’m not exactly the best at staying present.” Shepard waves a hand before Miranda can ask. “I’ve been looking into the whole dissociating thing. Dr. Chakwas knows all about it, she says it happened back on the old Normandy, too. She says it didn’t happen that often, though, so that’s good.”

“Does she know what caused it?” Miranda asks as Shepard moves to sit on the other side of the sofa.

“Nope. Turns out neither of us ever knew.” She slouches into the cushions with a shrug. “She did tell me the worst she ever saw it was after Virmire. I can’t really remember how I felt at the time, but I can’t imagine why it was so bad. I mean, I saved everyone, right? What could have triggered me so bad?”

Miranda can’t say. This whole thing is more complicated than she’s qualified for. She can turn a slab of meat back into a living, breathing, functioning human, but she’s not exactly an expert on what constitutes mental health, no matter how much research she does. She’s got her own issues to tangle with, she can’t be expected to deal with everyone else’s.

“Oh, Chakwas says my face is definitely a trigger,” Shepard says, looking amused. “My own face. How ridiculous is that?”

“Have you thought about prevention?” Miranda asks. “I’ve been doing some research and--”

“Aw, thanks.” Shepard grins.

“I didn’t do it for you,” Miranda’s quick to say, if only out of habit. “It’s for team effectiveness. It’d behoove me to make sure our commander is the best she can be.”

“Sure.” Shepard keeps right on smiling at her Miranda refuses to give her the satisfaction of a frown.

“Anyway, there are a lot of ways to recover from dissociation and keep it from happening again.”

“I’ve got my own method I’m trying later today,” Shepard says. “I’m gonna watch a bunch of my old interviews and see what happens.”

Miranda waits for the joke. When it doesn't come, she says, “Did you not _just_ say that your own face is a trigger? Now you want to expose yourself to it?”

“It's okay,” she says with another blasé wave of her hand. “I invited Tali and Garrus they’ll watch them with me. They’re also gonna keep an eye on me, so it’s good.” Miranda gives her a dubious look. “I’ll be _fine_. Besides, I’m curious. I’ve never actually watched any of my interviews.”

“I wonder why.”

“I must’ve had dozens of them,” Shepard muses, ignoring her. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“I think I can help you there,” Miranda says, pulling out her omni-tool. She goes to pull up her extranet history before she notices Shepard moving to sit next to her. Shepard leans over to look and, even though she’s not too close, Miranda can still smell her soap and the last traces of eezo on her skin.

“Wow, you watch a lot of these,” Shepard says, pulling Miranda back into consciousness. Her history is open and it’s a long list of vid after vid, each of them a different title, but all sharing the same focus. “Should I be flattered or creeped out?”

Miranda rolls her eyes. “Neither. I had to watch these to know more about you back when I was putting you back together.”

Shepard nods solemnly. “Okay. I’ve decided on flattered.” Miranda huffs out the tiniest laugh before she reigns in it again. At least Shepard is talking normally to her. She should probably laugh more, if it’ll help her get closer to her. Miranda resolves to do so, knowing that destroying the Collectors will be worth strain on her face.

“I’ve sent the links to you,” she says as a _ping!_ sound signals Shepard's omni-tool receiving them. “You probably shouldn’t watch them all in one go. There are a lot.”

“Gotcha,” Shepard says, going through the links on her screen. “Are these in any particular order?”

Yes. “No.” Miranda stands and walks around the coffee table on her way to the door. “Well, I’ve got some work I should get done. Good luck triggering yourself.”

“Thanks,” Shepard says with an absentminded wave and she leaves. Miranda sighs as she enters the elevator, already wrestling with a bad feeling this little experiment won’t end as well as the commander hopes. She puts it in the back of her mind and goes straight to her office. No point in worrying about it now. She has too much work to do to obsess about Shepard’s state of mind.

 

* * *

 

It’s an hour later and Miranda has done enough work to justify a break. It’s not like she can make reports on things the Illusive Man already knows about. There have been no notable disasters, no mutinies, and the ship’s upgrades haven’t blown them all up, so there isn’t much to do.

She decides to look into this Carter Yamazaki Shepard some more while she has the time. There isn’t much about him on the extranet besides the odd mention in other people’s articles. He’s written some of his own, but they’re tame compared to his work as Major Mercy. Miranda still remembers the one that had exposed so much corruption, an Admiral had lost her job. She can’t recall the woman’s name, but she had been impressed with Mercy’s thorough investigation and surprised to see something from him after almost a year of silence following Shepard’s death.

Carter is listed as a donor at the Shepard Memorial Plaza, unsurprisingly. Its extranet site is fancy and covered with photos of the commander in heroic poses that were likely meant to look candid, but are clearly not. A lot of the shots they used in the site’s gallery seem so stiff and fake to her now that she’s seen how the real woman actually moves and stands. Miranda finds herself wondering what Carter looks like. Shepard called the two of them twins, but surely they can’t be identical. Him being adopted makes that very nearly impossible.

The plaza’s facilities are quite nice, actually. Looks like it’s a favorite for wedding ceremonies, which is a little odd. Miranda wonders how she could use something like this to get even closer to Shepard. She doesn’t know if the commander is aware she has her own memorial, but it could be a good conversation starter. At the very least, it’d be interesting enough to gain her attention.

Jacob hasn’t barged into her office like he usually does. Is he really that upset? It isn’t like it’s surprising that he’s lost track of the mission and found himself genuinely liking Shepard, she understands that. She’s bothered that _he’s_ so bothered by her earning the commander’s favor on purpose. What’s so disturbing about that? He knows she’s doing it for a good reason, doesn’t he?

Jack’s words come to her in a flash. _Getting all buddy-buddy with Shepard up until she gets the job done_. Miranda had thought little of that particular accusation at the time. Troubling how right the little time bomb turned out to be.

Miranda stands - she should go find out where the memorial plaza is on the galaxy map. Perhaps they can make a brief detour sometime, though she isn’t entirely sure what Shepard’s reaction would be. Maybe she can suggest it after they’re done with the Collectors, she shouldn’t take a risk on Shepard’s already fragile mental state when they need her to be steady.

She walks out of her office and makes her way to the elevator when she sees Tali and Garrus standing right next to it, talking in hushed tones. They both seem agitated, Tali more so. She’s wringing her hands together, her shoulders hunched and making her look like the young Quarian she is. Garrus looks even more rigid than usual and he keeps turning to the elevator, but never moving towards it.

They’re supposed to be keeping an eye on Shepard while she watches those interviews. This looks bad.

Miranda marches over to them, ignoring Tali’s abrupt change in demeanor once she notices her approach and addressing Garrus. “What happened?”

Garrus makes a sound like he’s about to answer her before he glances at Tali, who must be sporting a very impressive glare behind that helmet. Her shoulders are square and her hands are balled up into fists as she stares at Miranda, probably trying to figure out the best way to cut off life-support in her office. Miranda has no time for it. She keeps her attention on Garrus and says, “Did something happen with Shepard?”

“Shes--” Garrus stops himself, looking unsure. “We don’t know. We were watching those old vids and she seemed fine, at first.”

“Did she react badly?”

“What do you care?” Tali bites out. “She’s not fighting any Collectors right now, so this isn’t your concern.”

Garrus turns to her. “Tali--”

“No.” Tali snaps, turning to him sharply. “Come on, Garrus, what can she do?”

“She brought her back, maybe she can help.”

“Or she’ll make it worse! Cerberus isn’t exactly _nurturing_.”

“We should let her try.” Garrus jerks his head upwards. “For her, we should try.”

Miranda watches as Tali deflates, the hackles she’d raised when Miranda had arrived dropping along with her shoulders. She lets out a long, filtered sigh and turns away. Garrus seems to take that for permission and gives Miranda a nod. She walks around them and into the elevator, knowing they’re watching her go and feeling uneasy the whole way. The commander’s quarters are unlocked when she gets there.

She’s struck by the sharp smell of eezo and feels the static in the air. The room is a disaster zone. Books and lamps litter the floor along with both nightstands and the desk. The bed is in disarray and the sofa is lying lopsided on the wrong side of the room. A few lights are flickering and casting a weaker light, and those are the ones that haven’t completely gone out.

Sitting on the bed amongst the chaos is Shepard, bent over with her head in her hands. Miranda walks into the room carefully, but makes enough noise to announce her presence. Shepard only sighs. Hopefully that means she won’t be startled. Miranda steps into the bedroom and stops a reasonable distance away.

“What happened?” she asks, not sure what to make of this situation. She doesn’t know enough about dissociation yet to consider it the cause.

“Nothing,” Shepard answers, voice tight. She sits up just enough so that Miranda can see an unfamiliar dark expression on her face. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine, I--”

Shepard stills, her eyes widening for a moment before she glares at nothing, her pupils giving off a faint blue light. “I said that a lot, before. It’s always fine, isn’t it? I’m _always_ fine.” She laughs bitterly, her hand raking over her bangs roughly.

Miranda takes a step forward and crouches to meet her gaze. “Tell me what’s wrong.” Shepard scowls, but says nothing. “Tali and Garrus are worried. They sent me up here to check on you.”

That gets a reaction out of her. “ _Tali_ sent you?”

“She’s scared for you,” Miranda says. “We all are. Now, tell me what’s wrong.” Shepard softens at that, if marginally. Miranda stares back at her and waits, deliberately not thinking about the validity of what she said.

Shepard presses her lips together in what looks like annoyance and stands. “I watched the vids. Not all of them. Didn’t need to watch all of them, I got the message just fine.” She’s pacing now, her face stormy. “I felt...weird when I was watching them, watching _me_. I looked wrong, like I wasn’t...”

“Wasn’t what?” Shepard pulls up her omni-tool and one of the vids plays. She grimaces and turns her screen to show Miranda.

“Look at her,” she says, tone sharp. "Do you see it?" Miranda sees it - it’s Shepard from one of the more recent interviews. She’s smiling and talking easily, looking as immaculate as ever. Miranda turns to the real one and shakes her head, not understanding. Shepard lets out a frustrated huff.

“That’s not _me!_ ” she bites out. “And that’s not even the worst part, I remember being _aware_ that that wasn’t me. I _knew_ and I kept up this--this _show_ \--” she throws a fist downwards, sending out a biotic pulse that pushes the bed back-- “I maintained this crap every goddamn day and do you know why?” She looks straight at Miranda, eyes bright and furious and not waiting for an answer.

“Because underneath all that shit, all that perfect hair and flirting and _bullshit_ , there was a big pile of fucking _nothing!_ ” She throws her hands up with an almost manic laugh, sending a lamp flying to the corner. Miranda winces as it shatters. "This whole time, I was just--" she cuts herself off with a cry and her hands go to her face. Miranda stands and rushes to her side when she sees an orange glow from between her fingers.

"Shepard, you need to calm down, your scars are opening up," she says in a rush, hands going to Shepard's in an attempt to move them so she can see. Shepard jerks away from her, fingers practically clawing at her face that must feel like it's tearing apart. "Shepard, please, just try to breathe."

The commander stops moving away and sucks in a shaking breath, and then another, and another. Miranda doesn't know how much time passes before Shepard slowly drops her hands - her face is still lined with the jagged scars, but they aren't blazing anymore. They're faint against her dark skin, but they mark her features almost as drastically as they did when she'd been comatose.

“None of it was real,” Shepard finally says, her voice hoarse. She's calmer now, but her eyes are empty. The only trace of emotion left on her face is in the tightness of her brow, stretching the scarring on her forehead and making the faded lines more prominent.

“None of it. This--" she gestures toward herself--"is all I ever was. I’m fucking _nothing_.”

Shepard shuffles back to the bed and sits down heavily. She puts her head back in her hands and she’s back in the position Miranda had found her in. Her fingers dig into her hair, tangling in the thick curls. Her shoulders heave and she’s not glowing, but Miranda can still feel the barest hints of static coming off of her stiff frame.

This is...more than Miranda is equipped to handle. She doesn’t know what to say, what to do to fix this. It would be so much easier if Shepard had just lost a limb or something, she knows how to deal with _that_. What can she do when the commander, their most valuable asset, is shaking and looking inches from breaking apart? She racks her brain, thinking of a million ideas that would ultimately do nothing before she lands on a possibility.

A detour.

She pulls up her omni-tool and quickly sends a message to Moreau. His reply is prompt, if confused, but he doesn't object. EDI plots the course in no time and they’re on their way. Miranda looks at Shepard again and moves to crouch a bit closer to her.

“I want to show you something,” she breathes, leaning towards her. Shepard straightens slightly and furrows her brow at her. “Meet me on the bridge in half an hour. Wear something discreet.”

Shepard keeps looking at her with that angry, lost face and Miranda is strongly reminded of the way she’d looked when they first escaped Lazarus Station. Shepard faintly nods and Miranda stands to go get changed as well. It would be prudent to not be wearing the Cerberus logo where they’re going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was actually not originally going to be broken up into two chapters, but it flowed better. bear with me folks i got this under control [sweats]
> 
> thanks for reading!


	12. Making Nice Phase 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an update in less than a month!! i think!!! im getting prolific
> 
> lots of sibling love in this one. hope you like it!

 

 

Moreau’s parked the Normandy a good distance away to avoid causing a spectacle. From the moment the shuttle was readied and they boarded, Shepard hadn’t said a word. She hasn’t spoken at all since her near meltdown in her quarters. Her cheeks are still giving off the faintest orange glow in the darkness, even from under the brim of her cap and the wide hood of her sweatshirt.

Miranda wonders for the tenth time if she’s made a huge mistake, bringing Shepard on this little trip. She should’ve brought someone else along, at the very least, someone the commander actually likes. Miranda knows she’s not hated, but she’d be fooling herself to think that she holds the same kind of esteem as Shepard’s old Normandy crew. She thinks she’s even ranked under Yeoman Chambers, who takes any chance to give her another ridiculous hug. Miranda definitely should’ve brought her.

Nothing to do about it now. The plaza is right under them now, and the pilot lands their shuttle shortly. Miranda steps out first, adjusting her jacket and glasses. Shepard exits the vehicle and walks up to stand beside her, staring up at the building in front of them in confusion.

“Where are we?” she asks, glancing at the other visitors talking amongst themselves as they enter the plaza, most of them human with a few blue heads and sharp mandibles among them.

“Your monument,” Miranda answers. Shepard gives her an alarmed look and she jerks her head towards the entrance before walking on, Shepard following close behind her. Once they get close enough, Miranda points to the banner projected over them, the words large and bordered on each side by the gleaming Alliance insignia:

 

Noble 3 Space Station

**The Philomena Shepard Memorial Plaza**

_In tribute to the woman who gave everything_

_for the sake_ _of galactic peace._

_Sponsored by the Shepard family and the Systems Alliance_

 

Miranda watches the commander’s face as it goes from baffled, to shocked, to mildly perturbed in the span of three seconds. Miranda gives the slightly baggy sleeve of her sweatshirt a brief tug and leads her further into the plaza.

Miranda isn’t altogether surprised by the sheer number of people they see once they’re inside. There’s a few people reading the assorted plaques commemorating the more publicized points of Shepard’s life while others are on a tour with an Asari guide gesturing toward photos and spouting facts. There are security officers in every corner, some of them Turians and most of them making their patrols across the hall.

A swell of laughter erupts from her right and she turns to see people taking pictures next to the virtual commander in full N7 armor posing with visitors. The VI is smiling and amusing its audience with lines like, _“If you work hard and have enough guts, maybe you can get the Star of Terra, too!”_

Very disturbing. Miranda glances up at the real woman again and sees her giving the program a hard look. Miranda realizes with a jolt that she may be dissociating again, but she’s proven wrong when Shepard walks toward the ring of people surrounding the VI.

Miranda follows her until she stops just a few steps away from the people. The VI is still grinning and saluting and them all, saying in its computerized tones that just barely resemble the real thing, _“We’re all part of this big, beautiful galaxy. Say no to xenophobia!”_ The VI flashes them all another famous Shepard smile and points at one of the adult visitors.

 _“Hey, you look fit to fight! Consider enlisting in the Systems Alliance!”_ Miranda sees Shepard stiffen in the corner of her eye. _“Pave the way for the future! Be part of our alliance!”_

Miranda feels a buzz in the back of her neck. She turns to Shepard sharply and sees the barest hints of blue light crackling off of her tense shoulders. Her hands are balled into fists at her sides and the corona starting to ring around her stormy face is only muted by the orange glow burning in her eyes.

Shit. They can’t be here, not with Shepard like this. Miranda glances at the nearby security officer and grabs the commander by the elbow the moment the Turian looks away. Shepard lets herself be dragged away without protest, but Miranda can still feel the static coming off of her in angry sparks. She spots a vacant corner and makes a beeline for it. It’ll be good to stay away from crowds until Shepard calms down, which will be harder than it needs to be - they can still hear the VI’s artificial voice filtering over to them as they go.

 _"An apple a day keeps the pirates away! **Trust me**." _ The crowd laughs and takes more pictures.

 

* * *

 

“I remember helping to make that VI,” Shepard says after a long silence. They’re standing in an empty spot near an emergency exit, Shepard having been breathing deeply and seeming to fight to stay calm.

Miranda had waited, tugging on her jacket sleeves and trying not to say something that would make things worse. Now she turns to her, eyeing her warily, but she seems more or less composed. “Oh?”

Shepard hums. “I modeled for it. Did all those poses. Said those corny lines, too.” She lets out a huff of a laugh. “I was high at the time, can’t remember on what. I could barely get those sentences out. They must’ve had to edit heavily.” Miranda doesn’t really know what to say to that, so she doesn’t. Shepard doesn’t seem to mind as she looks at her sneakers, her biotics no longer flaring up, but her expression not looking much better.

“I thought it was funny,” she says quietly. “ _So_ funny. That anyone would go somewhere just to see some projected copy of me. That some idiot thought I was worth the trouble.”

This might have been a huge mistake, Miranda thinks for the eleventh time. She’d thought seeing the kind of impact Commander Shepard had on the universe would make her think more positively about the person she was, not make her self-loathing even stronger. Miranda sweeps the area - there has to be something that’ll help, she didn’t come all this way to make Shepard feel _worse_.

Her eyes land on a big, floating directory in the center of the room. She steps away with a murmured, “Stay here,” and walks toward it. When she gets close enough to read the signs pointing to different destinations, she scans it desperately, looking for something _anything_ that won’t send Shepard down another black hole. One of the signs catches her eye - it’s the smallest one, the words barely legible: _The Child Who Became The Myth_.

That’s probably not going to end badly. Miranda turns on her heel and tugs on Shepard again until she follows her in the direction of another room in the plaza. It’s smaller than the last one and has nearly no visitors. The exhibit is also less impressive, with just a few screens playing the same clips over and over.

When the two of them get close enough, they can see it - a baby, presumably Shepard, scrunching her face at the camera, little tufts of black hair curling at the top of her little, bulbous head. The image is replaced by a little girl with long, dark hair tied up in pigtails hugging a toy spaceship and waving shyly at the camera. Her eyes are big and brown and looking at the floor. A little boy runs onscreen, his own black hair up on either side of his head. He grins at little Shepard and squeezes his face with his hands, his cheeks squashed and his lips poking out. Little Shepard laughs before she copies him, squeezing at her own face. They both giggle, high-pitched and a little irritating, until the screen fades to another video of Shepard, slightly older and talking at length about a dog she saw, her hand gestures big and her eyes bright.

“How did…” Miranda hears Shepard mutter. The commander’s eyes are glued on the screen, not glowing, but wide and confused. “How did they get these? _I_ never even knew where my moms put these.”

“Didn’t you read the sign?” Miranda asks as the video plays the footage of a baby Shepard again. “Your family helped build this place.”

“I saw that, but--” she shakes her head. “My moms would _never_ let these videos go. The only person who could convince them is--”

“Nice to know some people appreciate a good scrunchy face.” Shepard jumps when a voice rings out from behind them. Miranda turns to see someone standing just behind her, having to look up to see their face, they’re so tall. Exactly as tall as Shepard. Their rounded face has the slightest suggestion of cheekbones just under hooded brown eyes and above a slight smile as they look at the screen.

“I’m surprised y’all found this place,” they say, rubbing at the back of their neck. “It’s not like they made it easy.”

“Oh, uh--” Miranda starts with a glance towards Shepard, only to find her facing away from the both of them, her shoulders hunched and her hands deep in the pockets of her sweatshirt.

“That’s okay. It’s nobody’s fault but mine.” The stranger extends their hand towards her. “I’m Carter. Brother of the deceased.”

Miranda shakes his hand and schools her expression to not look as shocked as she feels. She changes her accent for good measure and smiles at him cordially enough. “Mary. Nice to meet you.” He definitely looks nothing like his foster-sister, despite implausibly being the same height. The shape of his head, for a start, is in stark contrast with Shepard’s angular features. His skin-tone and hair color is off, too. Miranda really isn't seeing it, but she probably shouldn't talk, considering her own 'twin' sister is almost half her age. “So, you’re the Carter Yamazaki-Shepard who helped fund this place?”

“Yep. Not that it did me much good.” He glances at Shepard and back to Miranda. “Is your friend alright?”

“She’s fine, she's just not good with crowds.” Miranda watches the commander’s movements very carefully from the corner of her eye.

Carter gives Shepard’s back a sympathetic look. “That’s too bad. Well, good thing you two are here, then. Hardly anyone finds this room.”

“Why is that?”

“That depends on who you ask.” He crooks a finger under his chin in a show of deep thought. “It _could_ be because I’ve been writing and contributing to articles criticizing the Alliance. Then again, it _might_ be that one time I got an Admiral fired in disgrace, that’s a possibility. Personally, I think it’s because I don’t like to salute. It’s too much work.”

“Would the Alliance be that petty?” Miranda asks, a little stunned.

“Ever since they lost _her_ \--” he points at the screen with a laugh just as baby Shepard grimaces at him--“they’ve been all kinds of flagrant. Not in a way anyone can notice, no, just in tiny ways that are meant to inconvenience _me_ , specifically.” He slants a smile at her and looks so much like Shepard for a moment, it makes her pause. She blinks and it’s gone - did she imagine it?

“S'okay, though,” he goes on, looking at the screen again. Little Shepard and the boy who must be him squeeze their faces and his smile softens. “They can do whatever they want to shove this room aside. Won’t change anything.”

“What do you mean?” she asks. He gestures at the other screens - the one playing a young Shepard, blue-eyed now, making silly faces behind a pair of thick glasses; another where she's a few years older and using biotics to lift a cup in the air with careful hands and her teeth biting down on her lower lip in tense concentration; another with her and Carter and someone else draped in what look like graduation gowns, tossing their mortarboards and dancing goofily. The person Miranda doesn’t recognize is holding Shepard’s hand in the video and the two of them kiss just before Carter bounds into view and tackles them both, sending them all to the ground in a laughing heap.

“This’ll all still be here,” he says. “I don’t know who that person is, the one they’re all taking pictures with and memorializing with all these fancy rooms. _This_ right here, this is my sister. This is the Shepard I want people to see.

“And so long as people like you and your friend end up here somehow,” he goes on, smiling at them in turn, though Shepard wouldn’t see it, “people will know who she really was.”

Miranda glances at Shepard, but asks Carter, “And who was she?”

Carter’s eyes are soft and fond when he answers, “An idiot. The best idiot I've ever known.” Miranda can’t help but stare at his open, bright face and knows that it wasn’t a trick of the light - now she understands why Shepard had called him her twin.

"Hopefully more people will come check this room out," he says. "I'm getting a little tired of coming here every day."

"You come every day? Why?"

"Partly because I like having lunch somewhere quiet. Mostly because I'm hoping someone'll see me walk in here and be curious enough to follow." He laughs a little sheepishly. "Hasn't worked yet. How'd you two find it, anyway?"

"I read about it on the directory."

"You can _read_ that?" he asks, impressed. "And they tried so hard to make it difficult. Good on you. Most people only ever come to the plaza because of all those rumors." He rolls his eyes. "As if she’d come to her own memorial if she really were alive. Please.”

Miranda doesn’t comment on the irony of that statement. “You don’t believe she is?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. I try not to think about it.” Miranda sees Shepard just barely shift her stance and gets an idea.

“What if she was?” she asks him. “If she really was alive, what would you want to say to her?”

Carter gives her a curious look. “You writing an article or something?”

“It’s just hypothetical.”

“I think I’ve used that excuse before,” he says with a chuckle. He seems to think on it for a moment, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“I think I’d tell her…” he begins slowly, “that I’m sorry. And that I missed her. I’d make sure she knew that I wasn’t wrong, but I still am sorry. Then I’d put her in a headlock for working with Cerberus.” He pulls a disgusted look. “We were _definitely_ raised better than that.”

“I’m sure you’ll get to tell her that someday.”

Carter barks out a laugh. “Oh, I hope so. Better get my arms ready--” He stops and turns when Shepard starts to walk away, sneakers squeaking on the shining floor. “She shouldn’t go that way. There’s usually a lot of people around this time.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Miranda says, moving to follow her. Carter waves at her as she goes, a laugh still playing at the corners of his mouth.

Shepard’s striding now, going straight through the crowds and bumping into several people. Miranda skirts around them, but is having a hard time catching up. It isn’t until they’re both outside that she does, when Shepard stops to lean on the side of the building, well away from any onlookers.

Miranda carefully approaches her, leaning to see her face from under the hood. Shepard’s glasses are askew and they make it hard to get a good look. Miranda brings her hands up and pulls them off her gently to find nothing glowing, thankfully, but her eyes are wet. She’s not quite crying, unshed tears sitting just at the edge of her eyelids. Her eyebrows aren’t drawn as tight anymore and her lips are pressed together like she’s fighting back against something.

She meets Miranda’s gaze and something in her face breaks. She takes a step forward and lays her head on her shoulder before Miranda can do anything to stop her. Miranda’s arms go up a little out of reflex and feels her finger grabbing onto the sleeves of her jacket. They’re barely touching, everything except for Shepard’s forehead and fingers not coming into contact, but it’s outside of Miranda’s experience. She stills in it, having no clue how to respond, when she hears Shepard’s voice.

“Thank you,” the commander breathes, tiny and broken in a way Miranda would never have imagined her capable of. She brings her hands up further and places them a little awkwardly on Shepard’s forearms, clenching just a little at the fabric of her sleeves. They stand there like that, not quite hugging, but providing comfort all the same.

The warm, tugging thing is back. It sits inside of her, painful and inches away from bursting straight through her chest.

Miranda moves away. “We should get going.” Shepard releases her and quickly wipes at her face. Once she’s done, she nods with a sniff and takes the lead back to the shuttle. Miranda walks just behind her, trying to walk straight with that feeling weighing down each step. It’s so heavy and terrifying, and it was only seconds away from infecting every part of her.

No, she can’t let that happen. She won’t.

She takes a deep, deep, fortifying breath against the softness pulling at her and violently shoves it back down.

 

* * *

 

17:42 OR: and then the dog jumped and my project was DESTROYED

17:42 ML: Oh no.

17:43 OR: oh no is right. now i have to make a new origami normandy before monday

17:43 ML: Your school has very strange assignments.

17:44 OR: right? always something new

17:45 OR: speaking of which

17:45 OR: i got a very interesting message from lo today

17:46 ML: Lo?

17:46 OR: shepard. don't you know her first name?

17:47 ML: I thought it was Philomena.

17:47 OR: it is but she hates it. she says i can call her lo :) i think it's cute

17:48 OR: anyway she told me about the nice thing you did yesterday

17:49 ML: She did?

17:49 ML: What did she say?

17:50 OR: she didn't give me any details bcs she's terrible but she mentioned smth about regaining perspective

17:51 OR: or smth like that. honestly she was very vague it was so annoying

17:52 ML: That's good. Not that Shepard was annoying, but that she's feeling better.

17:53 OR: totally. and it's all thanks to you ;)

17:53 ML: Oriana.

17:54 OR: what?

17:54 ML: Stop it.

17:55 OR: oh come on randa u know u like her

17:55 ML: That's not relevant right now. We have a mission.

17:56 OR: right The Mission i almost forgot abt that

17:56 OR: it's not like i've been worrying abt you ever since u messaged me about that life-threatening trip u had

17:57 OR: nope never lost any sleep over that or this ~mission~ u refuse to explain

17:57 OR: thanks for the reminder

17:58 ML: Ori.

17:59 OR: it's fine

18:00 ML: No, it's not. I'm sorry I'm worrying you. I really wish things were different, but I need to keep these things from you so that you're safe.

18:01 OR: im not 12 randa

18:02 ML: I know. But I still can't risk it. Please understand.

18:04 ML: Ori?

18:05 OR: i'm here

18:05 ML: I didn't mean to upset you.

18:06 OR: i know

18:07 OR: can u at least try to stay safe?

18:08 ML: I will.

18:08 OR: promise?

18:09 ML: I promise.

18:10 OR: watch out for lo too

18:11 ML: Of course.

18:12 OR: good

18:12 OR: it'd suck if my future sister-in-law died twice before i could rly meet her

18:13 ML: ORIANA 

18:14 OR: ha! now u HAVE to survive so u can yell at me in person! u have fallen in my trap

18:16 OR: randa??

18:17 ML: You're an idiot.

18:18 OR: since we're genetic twins wouldn't that make u an idiot as well?

18:18 ML: Never claimed otherwise.

18:19 OR: im glad we could come to an agreement

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yaaaay we met carter and he's great. gonna start on the suicide mission next! it's about to get Hectic
> 
> thanks for reading!


	13. Wrong Answer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy fuck it's been two months. i left this fic sitting around for 2 months AGAIN aaggghhh
> 
> i'm sorry!! i've just moved to london and it's been so incredibly hectic, but i've finally found my rhythm and im back at it! getting this piece of shit done so i can move on to bigger and less slow-burn stuff bcs im obviously unorganized and can only focus for a short time. here we go!

They’re getting closer and closer to being ready to hit the Omega-4 Relay. The Reaper IFF has integrated successfully into the Normandy’s systems and everything is nearly in place. Miranda can feel how tense the rest of the crew are, all of them aware of the impending mission. The usual joking and occasional commotion on the crew deck has gradually died down, with only a few murmurs between crewmates while the rest work or silently eat in the mess hall.

The team Shepard had recruited personally is no different: Garrus fiddles with the ship’s canon more times than necessary, but everyone else is too stressed to say anything; Samara is spending more time in the armory with Jacob, the both of them almost obsessively assembling and disassembling weapons; Tali’s drones cause mayhem in the shuttle bay, little glowing balls of light flying serenely before they attack a crate with no mercy; Thane is rarely seen out of the Life Support room and Mordin is more obviously erratic, seeming to work on random projects to keep his mind off of what’s to come. They’re restless, Zaeed snapping at people more often than usual and Kasumi staying invisible for longer tangents, vanishing for several hours at a time. Grunt keeps breaking things – desks, chairs, walls – and not even Shepard can seem to control him for very long. Jack, of all people, is pensive, sitting in her makeshift quarters and flexing her hands over and over. She hasn’t destroyed anything in days and doesn’t even offer a snide comment when she and Miranda cross paths.

The geth, Legion, doesn’t leave the AI Core, but that’s less about anxiety and more about the crew being deeply uncomfortable with a working geth walking about the ship, especially now. Everyone knows what they’re about to jump into and what’s at stake. Everyone can feel the end coming.

While Shepard has been in better spirits, she’s also noticeably on edge. Miranda can see it in the rigid line of her shoulders when she stretches, in the tap, tap, tapping of her fingers against the briefing room table. She smiles at the crew easily enough, but she has her priorities straight now, more likely to look over the ship’s modifications than to chat with Moreau. Miranda notices the new way the crew looks at her – in the beginning, they’d been in awe and their eyes followed her every movement like they were looking at a fabled hero come to life. Now, they only straighten their backs and salute with a snap, their eyes intense above determined mouths. Shepard always nods and salutes back, her returned gesture making them relax and return to their duties with a new fervor. Shepard’s been responsible for this ship and crew for nearly ten months, but only now does she seem like the commander who managed to defeat a rogue Spectre and his geth army two years ago.

They’re just about ready to embark, but the commander doesn't want to go just yet. She wants to be absolutely sure that the ship and crew are prepared, and Miranda couldn’t agree more. No matter how badly she wants this to be over and done with, she can be rational. One mistake could destroy everything they’ve worked for, and Miranda doesn’t want to risk it. They’re currently doing several checks and run-throughs, making certain that anything that can go wrong won’t. EDI suggests running a thorough analysis of the IFF before they use it and Shepard decides to go pay a visit to the Citadel Council. The rest of the ground crew come along, some to use the shooting ranges and others to steal a few moments of peace before they go to war.

Miranda doesn’t know how much good the Council will do at this point, but she doubts that the commander is going to them for help. She’s proven right when the three of them – her, Shepard, and Grunt – make it to the Presidium and Miranda catches the commander’s face lighting up as they walk into the office.

“Shepard,” Councilor Anderson says easily, raising his hand for the commander to shake. “It’s good to see you.”

“Same to you, Councilor,” Shepard says, shaking his hand with a barely-contained grin stretching her face. Anderson doesn’t return it, but his stoic expression seems a fraction softer than Miranda’s usually seen it. They clasp hands for a while longer before the Council demands their attention, something Shepard looks less than enthused for.

“Alright,” she says, stepping toward the projected Councilors and crossing her arms. “What is it now?”

The meeting goes badly. Shepard is slouching, mocking, and almost aggressive as she takes the Council’s doubts and shoves them back in their faces. Anderson’s raised eyebrows tell Miranda that this is not normal behavior. They don’t believe her, because of course they don’t, and Shepard isn’t at all surprised. She laughs when the Turian councilor refers to the Reapers as if they were the mad ravings born of a fever dream.

“Did you seriously just use _air quotes_ on me?” the commander asks, incredulous. The council continues as if she hadn’t spoken, though Shepard doesn’t take it any more seriously. It’s when they suggest reinstating her Spectre status that she goes silent.

“A tempting offer,” she says, voice low and dangerous. She takes measured steps toward the projections, her hands balled into fists. “But, no. I don’t need your help. You can take your _symbolic support_ and shove it up your collective asses.” Anderson sighs, closing his eyes and facing the ground while Grunt laughs his Grunt laugh next to her.

The Council reacts as expected. Shepard leans over towards the projection console as they gripe and threaten and gives them a wave goodbye before slamming down on the controls, disconnecting the call.

“Well, that could’ve gone better,” Anderson says, looking resigned. Shepard shrugs with a smile and Miranda thinks the councilor might’ve smiled back, if only for a second.

“You’re sure that wasn’t a mistake?” Miranda asks, because she feels like someone has to. “The Council offering its support to Cerberus, even if it’s through you, isn’t something to refuse lightly.”

“Oh, we don’t need _them_ ,” Shepard says with a wave of her hand. “Plus, you don’t wanna be connected to the Council, _trust_ me. The paperwork alone is a goddamn nightmare.”

The human ambassador, Udina, shows up and Shepard shows him no more deference than she did the Council. He bristles at her blatant contempt and it’s only when Anderson dismisses him that he leaves, muttering angrily on his way out. Once he’s gone, Shepard is all smiles again and she and Anderson move towards the balcony, talking as if no time has passed at all.

Miranda doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when you’re built with higher-than-average senses, catching conversations with your hyper-perceptive hearing can be an issue. She wants to distract herself, stare at something in the office or think about something or other to keep her mind occupied, but then Shepard says something that catches her attention.

“So, let me guess.” Shepard’s shoulder brushes against Anderson’s as she leans against the railing beside him. “I missed maybe…two seasons?”

Anderson turns to her with a stern look before he says, “Two and a half, actually.” His expression breaks as he laughs lowly at her stricken face.

“I can’t believe they got renewed three times. Wait, did Carmen ever—“

“Yeah. Twice.”

“No! With Davra?”

“That’s _long_ been over. She’s with Nexa now.” Shepard gasps, looking outraged.

“She didn’t! No, come on, not _her!_ ”

“I know.”

“She killed her brother!”

“I know.”

“What are the writers _doing?_ ”

“I had the same reaction. Threw a bottle at the TV.”

“Again?”

“I missed this time.”

Miranda has no idea what they’re talking about, but she can guess that it’s probably some kind of TV show, maybe even a soap opera. She doesn’t really pay attention to that sort of thing, so the conversation flies over her head quickly. She’s surprised that Shepard spends time on something so frivolous, even more so that Anderson does. Their voices devolve into a buzz of noise that she can ignore pretty easily, so that solves the eavesdropping problem. She tunes back in when she hears Shepard laugh her big laugh, the one where she throws her head back and makes Miranda feel like everything’s slowed down.

“You stare a lot,” Grunt says from beside her, pulling her gaze away. She turns to him and he’s looking right at her, wearing that jagged grin like he’s laughing at her.

“What?” she manages, raising an eyebrow at him in her disdainful way. He does laugh then, a low, scratchy sound.

“I don’t blame you. Everybody stares.” He turns his attention to Shepard and Miranda sees a strange warmth in his gaze. “My battlemaster commands every room she’s in. That’s the kind of warrior she is.”

“Is that right?”

He nods, still grinning at Shepard’s back. “Unmatched.”

Miranda thinks that Grunt’s attachment to the commander would be cute if it weren’t so unsettling. She doesn’t have time to think about it further before he speaks up again.

“We’re a lot alike, you know.”

“I’m not sure about that.” She doesn’t know what she could have in common with a 600 pound Krogan, but from the look on his face, he’s about to tell her.

“We’re both tank-bred,” he says like it’s obvious. Miranda tilts her head in acknowledgement – she’d forgotten about that. “And we both like Shepard. We’re alike.”

Miranda huffs out a laugh. “I suppose you’re right.” He goes back to staring at the commander and Miranda’s pretty sure the two of them ‘like’ Shepard in completely different ways. Still, she’s surprised he could make such an observation. Perhaps there's more to him than she expected. She stores this observation away for future scrutiny and they fall into a comfortable silence. Shepard and Anderson come back into the room a few minutes later.

“So, you’re really going through.” Anderson says. “The Omega-4 Relay.” Shepard nods, smile dimming. He hums and seems to give it some thought before nodding back. “Right. Well. Good luck.”

“Thank you, sir,” Shepard says with a laugh. She turns to Miranda and Grunt and jerks her head towards the exit. Just as she moves to leave, however, Anderson’s hand shoots out and roughly clutches her bicep, turning and wrenching her towards him, his arms going around her shoulders as their bodies collide with a dull _thud_. Shepard’s own arms come up immediately, hugging him back just as fiercely with her hands gripping at the back of his suit.

All at once, Miranda feels like she’s intruding on something incredibly private. This hug isn’t at all like the one with Alenko on Horizon, not even remotely. She doesn’t as feel uncomfortable watching the commander press her face to the councilor’s broad shoulder, pressing tightly against him. She only wants to look away once she catches a glimpse at Shepard’s face - her expression mostly hidden, though her furrowed brow is clear and it only gets tighter when Anderson’s hand comes up to grasp the back of her head.

The hug ends almost as abruptly as it starts, with Anderson pulling back even before Shepard does. He pats her arms and she hesitates before finally releasing him. Their arms fall back to their sides and neither of them quite look at each other as they separate, Shepard walking past Miranda and out the door and Anderson turning his body towards the balcony. Miranda follows Shepard out, glancing at the councilor’s back over her shoulder as he raises a hand towards his face.

Shepard is quiet as they make their way out of the Presidium, shoulders stiff and face blank. Once they make it to the door, she stops and turns her head to the sky, closing her eyes and letting out a shaking breath. Grunt and Miranda both watch as she presses a hand firmly against her face and breathes deeply, more solidly this time. The next second, she exhales and her frame relaxes, face going loose again. Grunt takes a half-step towards her, his expression searching. She spares him a smile and walks past him with a pat to his padded shoulder.

“I’m good,” she murmurs, glancing at Miranda as well. Miranda nods, her own shoulders lowering, while Grunt gives her a wavy grin and a none-too-gentle shove to her shoulder. Shepard stumbles a little and laughs instead of falling over with a dislocated limb, so Miranda figures it wasn’t too bad.

“So, y’all wanna eat? I could use a burger,” Shepard says as they ride the elevator down to the public wards. “You hungry, Grunt?”

“Always,” he replies with another laugh.

“Miranda?”

“Sure. We have the time,” Miranda says, looking over some reports on her omnitool.

“Maybe I can force the others to sit down for a meal, too,” Shepard muses as they step off the elevator. “Let’s see, what’s open right now? Oh, there’s this place that has the _best_ fries, we could—EDI?”

Shepard stops, a hand going to her ear. Miranda watches her face go from confused to shocked, her eyes widening. A second later, her jaw sets and she speaks with the smallest waver in her voice, “We’re on our way.”

“What happened?” Miranda starts to ask, but Shepard raises a hand and changes the frequency of her communicator with her omnitool.

“Everyone, back to the shuttle,” she says clearly, her voice stronger now. Miranda hears it transmitting in her ear and figures it’s being sent to the rest of the ground crew as well.

 _“What’s wrong?”_ Miranda hears Tali’s voice as she matches Shepard’s swift stride back into the elevator.

“The Normandy’s been invaded. I’ll explain on the way, just get back here, _now_.” Miranda whips her head in Shepard’s direction, a million questions in her expression, but Shepard doesn’t see her. She stares straight ahead, every part of her coiled tight and ready to pounce. Miranda saves her questions for later and goes to face forward as well, catching Grunt’s uneasy look on the way.

As Miranda gives her a sidelong glance, she sees Shepard’s hands give off the faintest blue light. The light ripples and sparks as she balls them into fists.

 

* * *

 

“Everyone?” Miranda bites out as she enters the briefing room, glaring at a hunched over Moreau perched on the table. “You lost _everyone_ and damn near lost the ship, too?”

“I know, alright? I was there!” Moreau answers irritably. Beside him, Shepard gives her a firm shake of her head, quelling the several more cutting remarks she had loaded and ready to deliver.

“It’s not his fault,” Jacob says from the other side of the room, arms crossed and face grim. “None of us caught it.”

EDI gives a brief explanation, though Shepard only seems to be paying half her attention to it. Her eyes are on Moreau, her hand not quite touching him, but resting close to his knee, kept there like she’s preparing to use it if necessary.

“How are you?” she asks once EDI’s finished, voice soft and eyes searching his face.

Moreau lifts his head. “Lot of empty chairs in here.” Shepard carefully touches his shoulder, a gesture he shrugs off before sliding away from the table.

“The IFF is clean and online,” he says, sounding stiff and professional. “With EDI hooked up, we can go through the Omega-4 Relay anytime we want.”

And then there’s _that_ , the immeasurable danger of an unshackled AI looming over their heads. Miranda can’t contain her disapproval at that absurdly stupid move, though from the way Moreau snaps back at her, he doesn’t see it the same way.

 _“I assure you, I am still bound by protocols in my programming,”_ EDI says in what might have been an imitation of a reassurance. _“Even if I were not, you are still my crewmates.”_

Shepard gives EDI’s projected form a long, considering look before saying, “We need all the help we can get.”

“Sounds like we have everything we need to rescue the crew,” Jacob says, glancing at Shepard.

“Hold on,” Miranda says. “We can’t go barreling into this, we need to be sure.”

“We’re just supposed to let the Collectors keep our people?”

“That’s exactly what we’re supposed to do. The mission takes priority.”

“Of course it does,” Jacob says lowly. Miranda scowls. Things have been tense between them since their disagreement in the shuttle bay and it doesn’t look like Jacob’s over it yet. They stare each other down while Shepard looks between them questioningly.

“Alright, then,” she says cautiously. “Miranda, we’ve done everything we can for the ship. Everyone’s good to go. Now is the time.”

Miranda shifts her gaze to Shepard just as EDI pipes up, _“There is still a chance that the Normandy will not survive the Omega-4 Relay. Once we are en route, we are committed.”_

Miranda sighs, resigned. “There’s nothing more we can do.”

_“Is the destination confirmed?”_

“Plot the course, EDI,” Shepard says, posture straightening and standing at her tallest. “This just turned into a rescue mission. Let’s get our crew back.”

 

* * *

 

Miranda surveys her ransacked office and figures there’s no point in doing anything about the mess right now. Not when she’s not sure she’ll even come back after the job is done. The thought makes her shiver and she has the urge to message Oriana just one more time, but she can’t bring herself to do it. Her sister worries enough without her leaving more cryptic messages.

Miranda wishes she could watch another one of Shepard’s old interviews, they always did a good job distracting her, but it seems too strange now. After being around _this_ version of Shepard for so long, the old one seems almost imaginary and the more she knows of the current one, the less the previous one’s act holds up. It’s not as entertaining to watch the commander joke and flirt now that she knows that it was a desperate ruse that the woman constructed to stay likeable. It makes her seem somewhat fragile, hollow.

Miranda pulls up her omnitool and checks her messages – nothing from Oriana or her contacts. She opens up Shepard’s inbox, feeling less guilty about it this time. The commander already knows she looks through her messages and she hasn’t even given them a passcode. Knowing that, it’s not so much of a violation. Probably.

Shepard’s messages are all read – she must be keeping up with her correspondents, that’s a good sign. Miranda stops scrolling through when she finds a message from Oriana and opens it:

> _Lo!_
> 
> _Thanks for the update, it’s making it easier not to worry. How’s Randa? I’d ask her myself, but she wouldn’t tell me anything ): I get it, but honestly??? It’s not helping._
> 
> _That Big Mission you’ve got is happening soon, right? I mean, I don’t know, but I have a weird feeling. If I’m right, please please PLEASE be safe!! Look out for your friends and for my sister, you know how she is. Make sure she doesn’t die in a hole somewhere, ok? Same goes for you. You better come back from this so we can all hang out! I know you’re reading this too, Randa, so that goes double for you. Write back soon!! The both of you!!!!_

Miranda snorts. Her baby sister is very demanding. She scrolls down the length of the messages and finds a reply from Shepard under it:

> _Don’t worry, kiddo, I’ll make sure your sister isn’t in a hole. Maybe a flat plain or an ocean sure, but no holes, promise._
> 
> _Kidding. Please don’t send me a mean emoji, I’m still recovering from the last one. Also, it’s okay, Miranda, you’re allowed to read this (even if I’m pretty sure you don’t feel bad at all. You creep)._

Miranda rolls her eyes and goes back to the full inbox, now that she has full permission. The rest of the messages are to and from people she doesn’t know and don’t interest her. There’s a reply to Alenko’s message (a single line, ‘ _I’m really sorry’_ ) and one for Shepard’s mothers.

Miranda hesitates, her finger hovering over the projected screen. She decides against any further snooping and pulls the omnitool back. Just then, her wrist pings and her ‘tool lights up again. She opens it back up and finds new message sent to her own inbox.

**[Cdr Shepard: u should talk to Joker]**

Miranda blinks down at the short message in confusion and types back a reply.

**[Miranda: Why?]**

**[Cdr Shepard: clear the air]**

**[Miranda: There’s no point.]**

**[Cdr Shepard: the point is that it’d be less weird. it would behoove the mission for it not to be weird]**

**[Cdr Shepard: see how it important it is? i said ‘behoove’]**

Miranda huffs out a laugh and shakes her head down at her ‘tool.

**[Miranda: Fine.]**

**[Cdr Shepard: yay!]**

Miranda walks to the bridge, trying not to think about how loudly her boots click in the mostly-empty ship. She stops a ways away from the pilot’s chair and clears her throat. Moreau still jumps, unsurprisingly, and turns his chair to face her.

“Hey, Miranda,” he says, his voice heavy and his posture more rigid than ever. “You need something?”

“I just wanted to talk to you,” Miranda says, crossing her arms and trying very hard to sound calm and willing to ‘clear the air’. “How are you feeling?”

Moreau falters, stammering as he talks, “You don’t—you don’t have to do this, Shepard— _Commander_ Shepard already came to check on me.” When she only looks at him, he sighs. “I’m fine. Really.”

“ _You are not entirely fine, Jeff,_ ” EDI says, her voice softer and less robotic somehow. “ _But you’re doing better than most would in your position. That is something to be proud of._ ”

“Ha, yeah. I’ll let you know when I get there. Look, I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier.” Moreau doesn’t quite look at her as he talks. “It’s been hard, but you didn’t deserve that. You had a right to be angry. I messed up.”

“You couldn’t have done anything,” Miranda says, surprising Moreau and herself, both. “It was…a bad situation. I’m still not sure unshackling EDI was a good plan, but it worked. So, it’s fine.” She looks away, but she can see him gawking at her from the corner of her eye.

“ _Jeff is in shock, so he can’t say it,_ ” EDI says. “ _But, thank you, Miranda. I am sure he appreciates it._ ”

Miranda nods in EDI’s general direction and she goes on, “ _The course for the Omega-4 Relay has been plotted. The ship’s upgrades are operational and our fuel supply is sufficient._ ”

“ETA about two hours,” Moreau says, snapping out of it. “I’ll let the commander know.”

“I can do it,” Miranda says, already turning on her heel to go. She can feel Moreau staring at her as she walks away, but not in the same way men usually watch her leave, and it makes her uncomfortable. She really hopes he doesn’t tell Shepard about this interaction.

Who is she kidding, of course he’s going to tell her. She’ll never live this down.

She enters Shepard’s room and immediately spots her sitting at her desk, leaning back against her chair and spinning herself in an idle circle. Once Shepard notices her, she smiles.

“Hey. Something up?”

“Moreau is finalizing preparations now,” Miranda says, getting to business. “The trip should take a few hours.”

“Cool. Thanks.” Shepard smiles again and it’s pleasant enough, but it looks more forced than it should be. Miranda walks further into the room and stops at an appropriate distance to look down at her.

“How are you doing?” she asks, arms crossed and head tilted in concern.

Shepard sighs, smile falling. “I dunno. I think I’m prepared for this, but how _can_ I be? I don’t really have a point of reference.”

“I imagine fighting Saren doesn’t compare.”

Shepard chuckles. “Honestly, I never even got to really fight him, he did all the work for me. It’s hard to explain,” she adds at Miranda’s questioning look. “I’ll tell you when we get back.” Her voice cracks at the last word and she clears her throat. Miranda pretends she didn’t hear.

“So, Joker told me you talked,” she says, looking genuinely pleased. “He just sent a message.”

“Are you satisfied?”

“I am. You never seemed to get along.”

“Must I get along with everyone?”

“At least three people besides me and Jacob, yeah,” she says with a laugh. “Are you two alright, by the way?”

“Yes,” Miranda says quickly, maybe a little defensively. Shepard gives her a skeptical look and she sighs. “It’s just the stress of the mission. We’re fine.”

“You sure?” Shepard resumes her slow swivel in her chair. “JT is usually kinda tense, but never with you. Wanna talk about it?”

“Thanks, but it’s alright,” Miranda says, leaning her hip against the desk. “It’ll work itself out.” At least, Miranda hopes it will. She and Jacob don’t normally fight, at least not in a long, _long_ time, so she’s not used to the cold shoulders and antagonism. She’s not sure if their friendship can bounce back from this, but she’ll die before she tells Shepard the specifics. Especially when this situation in particular is centered on her, and Jacob’s very wrong assumptions regarding Miranda’s feelings. She’ll want to help, because that’s what Shepard does, and that would be excruciating. No, best avoid that.

“Okay. Let me know if there's anything I can do,” Shepard says predictably. Miranda nods, knowing she’ll do nothing of the sort. “Hey, I just realized. I’ve never given you a nickname.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Everybody gets a nickname, you should have one, too.” Shepard grins and Miranda winces.

“No, thank you. Miranda’s fine.”

“Aw. Alright, well, you could give me one, then.”

“I’d rather not.”

“You’re no fun.” Shepard pouts, slouching in her seat. “Could you at least call me by my first name?” Miranda grimaces and Shepard pokes her leg with the very tip of her boot, wheedling her. “C’mon. Call me Lo. You can do it.”

Miranda huffs a short laugh. “Tell you what, I’ll think about it.” Shepard narrows her eyes at her and retracts her foot peevishly.

“Oh, fine. If anything, you can always call me ‘Battlemaster’.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“So, how are _you_ holding up?” Shepard asks, no longer smiling. Miranda should’ve expected they’d come back to this subject eventually. Shepard’s nervous, it’s evident in her fidgeting and she’d even voiced her uncertainty earlier. This won’t do. For the mission to go smoothly, the commander needs to be calm and relaxed. Miranda tries to brainstorm some ways to calm Shepard’s nerves while answering her question.

“I’m ready.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s all that matters.”

“No, it isn’t.” Shepard shakes her head and stands to walk over to her. She stops a few feet away and looks right into Miranda’s eyes, peering at her deliberately. “How are you? Really?”

Miranda isn’t sure she wants to answer that. She looks away from the commander’s probing gaze and registers their professional proximity. She remembers the Illusive Man’s words.

 _Whatever it takes_.

She lifts her face again and takes a step closer to Shepard. She tilts her head up at her, knowing her hair will slide off her shoulder with the action. “Honestly, I wasn’t doing too great. But I’m feeling better now.”

Shepard smiles again, but it’s more confused than strained this time. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yes. I can think of a few ways to make you feel better, too.” Miranda presses in just a little bit closer and tilts her head up further, her chin raised and her mouth parted and presented to the commander. She keeps her hands at her sides, knowing she likely won’t need them just yet – this maneuver is usually more than enough.

Shepard hums. “I’m sure you can. I’ll let you know if they’re necessary.” She brushes past Miranda and moves further into the room. Miranda watches her sit on the couch and lean back, casual as anything.

Huh. Alright. She might have to adjust her approach. Miranda goes to the couch and sits down next to her, close enough to brush shoulders and thighs, but not so much that she’s right on Shepard’s lap. She can save that for later. Shepard gives her a sidelong glance and Miranda gets to work.

The next seven minutes are an exercise in perseverance, obliviousness, and failure. Miranda tries everything in her arsenal – batting her eyelashes, tossing her hair to one side of her neck, even practically _shoving_ her breasts against Shepard’s shoulder – but the woman is unbreakable. When Miranda’s smiling, she’s just smiling back. When Miranda’s touching her leg, she hardly registers it and just keeps talking. It’s when Shepard starts talking about the frustrations of dealing with tiny model ship parts with big hands that she gives up with a groan, snapping her gaze back to Shepard when the woman starts laughing.

“Aw, c’mon, you’ve got more in you,” she says, letting out another chuckle at Miranda’s glare.

“You knew?”

“Uh, yeah. For a while.” She beams and Miranda hates that she can’t stay completely annoyed. “I’ve never had someone try so hard to get me in bed. It was entertaining.”

“I doubt that. You were once the galaxy’s most eligible celebrity.”

“True. Doesn’t mean I made it difficult.” She shrugs. “Figured I’d make somebody work for it for once.” Miranda huffs and looks away, annoyed again. Shepard leans in close, ruining her apologies with more giggles and Miranda takes her chance. She turns back to face Shepard and grabs her by the collar before pressing her lips against hers, effectively silencing any remaining laughter.

Shepard stills against her for a moment before kissing back, her mouth moving carefully. Miranda’s heart is hammering in her chest and her mind is a constant stream of bliss at the feel of Shepard’s soft, soft lips and how badly she’s wanted to be in the position she’s in right now.

Speaking of positions – she needs to focus. She kisses Shepard for just a little bit longer, perhaps longer than strictly required for the task she’s about to undertake, and starts to stand, taking Shepard with her. Shepard follows her up, chasing her mouth and sliding her hands onto her waist. Her palms are warm, so warm, and it takes everything Miranda has to stay on point and walk Shepard backwards, her huge body hard to maneuver, but not impossible. Once they’re close enough, Miranda doesn’t hesitate to shove her back onto the mattress where Shepard lands with a gasp followed by a breathy chuckle. Miranda crawls on after her and places herself on Shepard’s lap as Shepard sits up and they meet halfway, Shepard smiling against Miranda’s lips.

Miranda’s arms are loose around Shepard’s neck while Shepard’s hands stay on her waist and don’t go any lower. Miranda has Shepard’s bottom lip between hers and is pressing her chest in close when Shepard pulls away.

“Wait, wait,” she says, sounding out of breath, to Miranda’s satisfaction. “You should know that back when I was, uh—doing this a lot, I’d have a hard time staying present during.”

“You dissociated when you had sex?”

“Yeah. Wasn’t really a big deal at the time, at least not to me, but, well. If I stop responding at some point, you’ll know why,” Shepard finishes with a smile that’s more shamed than amused.

That’s probably going to be a problem. There’s no point in making sure Shepard’s at ease if she won’t even be aware it’s happening. This also brings up a whole world of consent issues, and is generally more complicated than Miranda bargained for.

But, then, it’s not like this is her first job with complications. Miranda hums and slides a hand to the back of Shepard’s neck.

“Then, we’ll just have to find a way to keep you here,” she breathes. She runs her fingers along where the scars of an implant once were, but is only smooth skin thanks to her work. Shepard shivers as she slowly searches until she finds the approximate location of her amp port. Miranda gently presses down on it and Shepard jumps, her back arching as she sucks in a breath. Miranda does it again and Shepard gasps again, her hands tightening on Miranda’s waist. Miranda keeps rubbing against her neck steadily and kisses her again, hearing Shepard give out a quiet, muffled moan against her mouth.

Disaster averted. Back to work.

Miranda tries to pay attention to Shepard’s movements for any stalling or drifting off, but it’s hard when she’s so distracted by how much she’s enjoying herself. She’d known about her own physical attraction to the commander, but hadn’t expected how much she’d love running her hands across Shepard’s shoulders and the way Shepard’s hands slide down her hips and over her thighs as she shifts to bring her closer. Most of all, it’s her mouth, that always smiling, laughing, wicked _mouth_ that’s moving against hers in a way she would never have expected from the golden child of the Systems Alliance. Miranda doesn’t know if Shepard was this good a kisser two years ago, or if it was her own engineering that made her work with such practiced efficiency that makes Miranda sigh against her, but damn. If _she_ did this, then she’s even better than she thought.

Shepard runs her hands up and down Miranda’s thighs, as if mapping the terrain from her knees to her ass. She yanks her even closer, pressing them together tight, and licks into Miranda’s mouth. Oh, she is _good._

Miranda’s kissing down Shepard’s neck when the commander murmurs, “Maybe this isn’t the best time to be doing this. What with the crew missing and everything.”

“We have two hours,” Miranda absentmindedly whispers against her pulse, smirking at the resulting quiver.

“My model ships would take at _least_ two hours to work on,” Shepard says, another laugh mixed in with her words, not protesting as Miranda pushes her down on her back. “I have a lot of them. Oh, we could feed my fish, I mean _somebody_ has to.”

“Feeding fish isn’t conducive to relaxation.”

“And sex is?”

“It’ll work for now,” Miranda mutters, slanting her mouth over Shepard’s again. Shepard makes a muffled noise and turns away slightly.

“Work?” she asks, still smiling slightly while Miranda kisses at her jaw. “What does that mean?”

“Never mind that.” Miranda takes her face in her hands and moves to kiss her again before Shepard stops her with her own hands on Miranda’s shoulders. Miranda shoots her a questioning look while Shepard looks up at her, her eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks slowly.

Miranda pulls back slightly. “What?”

Shepard sits up, causing Miranda to go on her knees over her. She’s giving Miranda that same perplexed look and her hands are still on her shoulders, keeping her at a distance.

“Are you here for you? Or for Cerberus?” Shepard asks, direct in a way that’s not too different from how it sounds in the briefing room. Miranda looks right back at her, searching for something to say.

“I’m here for my own reasons,” she finally says, her own voice decidedly less sultry.

“And what are they?”

“Why does that matter?” Miranda snaps, irate with both Shepard’s confusing questions and this turn of events. Shepard doesn’t seem to mind her tone and only fixes her with those intense eyes.

“I wanna know if you’re here because you actually wanna be with me,” she says, voice still in Commander Mode, to Miranda’s growing frustration, “or because of the mission.”

Miranda stares, unable to reply. She looks away from Shepard’s overwhelming gaze and it was the one thing she shouldn’t have done. Shepard lets out a sharp, short laugh and drops her hands, letting them fall to the bed with a dull slap.

“That’s what this was,” she says quietly. Miranda looks back at her and finds her looking to the side, lips quirking at the ends. “You were trying to make me _effective_.”

“ _No_ , no, I was…” Miranda moves off of her lap, because it seems like the thing to do, but stays close and scrambles for the words that’ll fix this. “I was just—it was meant to help, I didn’t think—” She’s cut off by Shepard’s brief bark of laughter.

“Right, that’s the usual Cerberus method, then?” she asks, voice hard even as she grins at Miranda. “Your soldiers get a good fuck and then they’re good to go? Well, shit, no wonder you signed up.”

“That’s not what I—“

“No, I know what you meant,” Shepard snaps, smile finally falling and Miranda’s struck by the truly burning glare she’s given. Shepard stands, hands on her hips and her whole frame tight with barely-contained fury.

“See, the thing is—” she turns to Miranda—“I _know_ you like me. You do, I know it, but you wanna keep pretending this is all for the mission.” Miranda only stares, words dying in her throat. Shepard gives her a long look, like she’s reassessing her.

“Or maybe you’re not,” she says slowly. “Maybe none of it even mattered and I was just an asset to you this whole time. And you were always Cerberus’ pet.”

Miranda bristles. “ _Pet?_ ” She stands and steps up to Shepard, hands balled into fists at her sides. “What the hell makes you think you’re any better than me? You’ve been working for the same man I have for nearly a year.”

“Because I had no choice,” Shepard shoots back. “It’s not like I asked to command this suicide mission.”

“You’d be a corpse in space if it wasn’t for us.” Miranda notices the way Shepard just barely winces at that, but she barrels on regardless. “If it wasn’t for _me_. Saving the galaxy for the second time is the _least_ you can do in return.”

“I don’t owe you _shit_.” Shepard leans into her space, nearly snarling. “You _or_ your Illusive Man. If I make it out of this, I’m getting the fuck off this ship and your boss can choke. I’m not sticking around to turn into you.”

Miranda clenches her jaw, standing her ground and glaring right back. “And go where? You just burned your bridge with the Citadel Council and the Alliance won’t take back a traitor.” Shepard falters just a little, just enough for Miranda to attack. “Say what you want about Cerberus, it won’t change anything. I’m loyal to the end.”

Shepard’s eyes bore into her, freezing her in place. A long silence falls between them with only the quiet bubbles in the aquarium and their own breathing audible in the room. Shepard stands straight again before she speaks, voice soft, but no less fierce.

“Then I guess that’s that,” she says, looking down at Miranda with cold eyes. “Cerberus before everything else. Understood.” Miranda’s own glare wavers as Shepard turns and walks back to her desk. Miranda takes that as the dismissal it is and marches to the door stiffly. She steps out into the hall before she hears Shepard calling out to her.

“And don’t worry,” she says, stepping over to the door to stand in front of her, hands in her pockets and face closed-off, not the barest hint of a smile gracing any part of it. “I’ll get the job done.”

The door slides shut and Miranda’s left in the hall, her thoughts in disarray and her chest feeling caved in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooo there's the update. originally, this chapter was going to be a whole lot longer but i'm trying to work on my pacing. next up is The Mission WHOOP WHOOP
> 
> thanks for reading! sorry for taking so long. update coming soon!


	14. Into the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE WE GO! i've been without wifi for a while which meant no distractions and i got right to work lmaooo this is a ridiculously long chapter and i apologize in advance. i think i did a pretty good job tho ᕕ(ᐛ )ᕗ please excuse any typos
> 
> here's the suicide mission, finally. hope you like it!

“Everything is in order?”

“Yes, sir. We’ll be entering the relay in less than an hour.”

“Good. Be sure to be on the ground team when you arrive.” Miranda nods – she’ll have to figure out a way to keep herself close to the commander. Even if it’s unlikely she’ll want her there.

Stop. Now is not the time for that. She can deal with whatever’s going on with Shepard later, when this is over. Assuming they both survive.

For the first time since this whole mission began, Miranda almost hopes it doesn’t turn out that way.

“I’ve spoken to Shepard already,” the Illusive Man says, grabbing her attention. “She’s focused. More so than I’ve ever seen her. Was that your doing?”

Miranda’s carefully neutral expression cracks for the briefest second. From the way the hand tapping his cigarette into the ashtray stills, he must have noticed. He brings the cigarette to his mouth and inhales.

“I don’t need to know,” he finally breathes, smoke trailing out and catching the light of the star burning behind him. “What’s important is that she’s ready. She’ll be the valuable asset I’ve been hoping for.”

Miranda’s voice is a little tight when she says, “Agreed.”

“She seems rather determined to save the Normandy crew,” he says thoughtfully. “I worry she’s missing the bigger picture.”

“That may be her motivation, but she knows what the primary objective is.”

“I believe you. However—“ He stands and takes a few steps closer to her—“if it comes down to it, I hope you convince her to make the right choice.”

“Sir?”

“If rescuing the crew gets in the way of destroying the Collectors…” His cybernetic eyes glow in a way Miranda had never found menacing until now. “I suggest you make sure the job gets done.”

Miranda’s eyes flick way from his. “To be frank, sir, I don’t see her going along with that. You know what she’s like. She’d never abandon the crew.”

“Then, it’s a good thing I ended up putting that control chip in her.” Miranda’s gaze snaps back up to meet his as he raises his cigarette again, the smallest of smirks just behind his hand.

“How—”

“You weren’t always able to keep an eye on Shepard’s body in those two years. Even human perfection needs sleep.” He breathes out another gust of smoke. “Those scant few hours were an ample window.”

Miranda talks through a clenched jaw, “Wilson.”

“He knew nothing, which was ultimately a good thing. The two of you weren’t the only scientists on Lazarus Station.”

“Which one was it?” Miranda remembers the others, straight-laced professionals in a variety of ages and backgrounds. She’d personally picked them based on their impressive dossiers and stepped over their bodies when the station was under attack.

“It hardly matters now.”

“How did I not see it? I’d been monitoring Shepard’s vitals every day, every _hour_ —”

“Miranda, you’ve worked with Cerberus long enough to know that our reach is long,” he says easily. “This mission isn’t the first time I’ve resorted to working with non-humans. The Salarians are not difficult to manipulate. Give them a challenge and they rise to the occasion.”

“What was the challenge?” Miranda’s steady voice doesn’t betray the dread sitting heavily in her stomach.

“A control chip that can bypass all sensors.” He takes another drag of his cigarette. “The scientists gave me their answer in less than a week. I paid extra for the quick service.”

“What did they give you?”

“They ended up not making a chip at all. Considered it ‘uninspired’. Microbots, smaller than dust and set into the lining of her armor. The armor that you had placed in the operating room.”

Miranda remembers Shepard wincing and shaking as she fastened the armor, every click seeming like a painful struggle. Her scars hadn’t healed yet. There were openings everywhere.

“I vetoed your idea at first because I was set on keeping the commander the same,” the Illusive Man goes on despite Miranda’s stunned silence. “Same values, same principles, same memories. It was later that I realized that it was unlikely those values would match up with mine. I couldn’t take that risk, so I went ahead with your plan without your knowledge. I wasn’t sure I could trust you with that kind of power.

“But now I have no choice,” he says firmly. “I’ll transmit the activation protocols to your omni-tool. The Salarians only gave me one copy. Don’t waste it. I won’t allow Shepard’s sentimentality to jeopardize the mission. If, and only _if_ , she loses focus, you are to put her on the right path. Is that clear?”

Miranda can’t move. The power she’d wanted at the start, what she’d fought for, had always been there, waiting to be initiated. She’s been given the ability to influence Shepard’s every action, complete authority over the commander’s thoughts.

She has the chance to have total control and the very idea makes her sick.

“Miranda.” Her head whips back to him to find those eerie eyes staring at her intently, waiting for her answer. She straightens her back and takes a breath that only slightly shakes near the end.

“Understood, sir. Whatever it takes.”

 

* * *

 

“Joker? Joker!” Shepard’s voice rings out as Miranda tries to crawl back onto her feet, not used to her new armor yet. Shepard’s upright in seconds and trudging to the pilot’s chair where Moreau is groaning and whining, but alive. Miranda finds her balance again just as EDI speaks up.

“ _Multiple core systems overloaded during the crash. Restoring operation will take time._ ”

“We all knew this was likely a one-way trip,” Miranda says with a sigh as she surveys the damage in the bridge. Sparks are flying in several places and the damage to the systems is substantial. They’d made it through the relay with as much trouble as expected, but it was a fool’s hope to think they could go back the same way, even with all their upgrades. They’re going to be grounded for a while.

“We still have a job to do,” Shepard says, voice resolute. “Is the ship safe here?” EDI answers her, but Miranda isn’t paying attention. Her eyes are drawn to the space at the back of Shepard’s neck, bare as a result of the tight bun she’d made of her hair. Somewhere underneath that thick skin is a swarm of microbots lying dormant in her veins, waiting to be triggered. The activation protocols are in her omni-tool, transmitted and prepared, and they feel like a shackle around her arm, weighing her down.

Shepard calls for the ground team to meet in the briefing room. Everyone has to avoid sparking circuits and broken beams, but they’re all there in one piece. Miranda readies her pistol, checking and double-checking it for any flaws – there can be no room for error now. She sees someone else doing the same in the corner of her eye and glances up at them.

Jacob looks back at her. All at once, the ice that had grown between them vanishes and his eyes soften. She feels herself relax with him as she’s always done. As she might never get to do again. The suffocating thought of losing him on this mission is banished with his nod, his silent resolve. She mirrors it, knowing now what she’s almost forgotten. She may have lost the trust of one of the few people who actually liked her on this ship, but Jacob is always with her.

Shepard enters the room as if Miranda’s thoughts summoned her, armored and ready for war. She briefly meets the gaze of almost everyone present. Miranda doesn’t want to assume she’d skipped her deliberately, but it’s hard not to when those eyes slide right past her with no acknowledgement.

Shepard leans her hands on the table. “EDI, bring up your scans.” A projection of the Collector ship appears in the middle of the room with the main control center highlighted. According to EDI, getting there would allow them to overload their critical systems.

“Looks like there are two main routes,” Jacob says, studying the plans on his omni-tool. “We’d best split up and regroup in the central chamber.”

Miranda shakes her head and points at the main projection. “That won’t work, both routes are blocked. The only way past those doors is to get someone to open them from the other side.”

“What about the ventilation shaft?” Shepard suggests, pointing at it herself. “We can send someone in through there.”

“Good idea. We’d need to send a tech expert.” Jacob turns to Shepard. “It’s your call, Commander. Who do we send in?” Shepard looks down at the table, considering for a long moment before turning to her left.

“Tali. You think you can handle it?” she asks, voice gentle.

Tali hesitates for a second before straightening up with a firm nod. “I won’t let you down.”

Shepard spares her a quick smile and faces the projection again. “The rest of us will break into two teams and fight our way through each passage. That ought to keep the Collectors away from Tali.”

Two teams. Shepard will obviously command one of them, leaving the other in need of a leader. If Miranda’s in the second team, she’ll be away from her and may never need to activate the microbots. If she’s the _leader_ , she’ll definitely be able to keep from pulling the trigger.

Miranda takes her chance. “I’ll lead the second fire team, Shepard. We’ll meet up with you on the other side of the doors.” Shepard barely glances at her before Jack pipes up.

“Not so fast, cheerleader.” She rises slightly from her slouching lean against the table and scowls at Miranda, lip curled in a snarl. “Nobody wants to take orders from _you_.”

Miranda had a feeling this reprieve from Jack’s antagonizing would be short-lived. She wishes that the girl wouldn’t choose _now_ of all times to goad her and she shoots her a glare that tells her as much. “This isn’t a popularity contest. Lives are at stake.”

“How do we know you even care about those lives? Shepard knows better than to trust Cerberus cronies like _you_ ,” Jack bites out, practically climbing onto the table when she leans forward.

“Because _you’re_ any better? A temperamental brat with no restraint?”

“Hell of a lot better than the Illusive Man’s bi—“

“ _Enough_ ,” Shepard cuts in, voice hard.

Miranda turns to her. “Shepard, you need someone who commands loyalty through experience. Who is it going to be?”

Shepard sighs, not quite looking at her. She’s silent for a few seconds before glancing up again, this time at Garrus. “You up for it, Vakarian?”

Garrus adjusts his stance as Tali did before him, his rifle at the ready as he nods. Miranda deflates, the bitter loss warring with relief at the reasonable decision. Garrus is a fine choice for leader and the mission is in good standing, but now she can only hope against hope that Shepard doesn’t choose her to be in her team once they set off. If she’s lucky, the commander’s personal feelings will win over her professionalism and she’ll avoid her entirely. Miranda is distracted from her brief horror that she’d risk the entire mission, even a little, based on keeping Shepard as far away from her as possible when the commander starts talking again.

“I’m not sure if I should make a speech here,” she says, addressing them all with eyes glued on the table. “I don’t think I can think of anything to say that’ll make this any easier.”

Shepard straightens up, hands behind her back and finally facing them all. “But we’re gonna make it out of this. We’re gonna find our crew, take out the Collectors, and then we’ll be back in one piece. _All_ of us.” Her voice is steady and her eyes blaze at them, clear and fierce. “Watch each other’s backs. Work together the same way you’ve been doing for months. If you do that, we’ll make it through. I know it.”

She looks at everyone in turn, meeting their eye steadily and silently bolstering them, showing her trust and support with her stare. Her eyes land on Miranda last and she holds her gaze a fraction of a second longer than the others, boring into her and making her falter. It’s only when she looks away that Miranda feels like she can breathe, the invisible pressure finally falling off of her shoulders, only to fasten itself around her wrist in a vice grip.

“Today we take back what they stole. Let’s end this.”

The teams are divided and Miranda lucks out. She marches behind Garrus with her pistol raised, the dry chill of the Collector ship seeping into her bones through her armor. She wishes it was uninhabitable, longing to wear a helmet and escape the undecipherable smells coming from the rotting walls and cracked, brown ground. It’s quiet for the time being, and Tali has confirmed her position in the shaft. Shepard keeps in contact with them through the comms and the mission Miranda had been preparing for finally begins.

They encounter enemies soon enough, the telltale clicking and humming of Collector wings growing noisy and all too close. They mow through them quickly and Shepard’s team seems to be faring just as well. Tali is managing through the tube with little trouble and everything is going suspiciously smoothly. They make it to the rendezvous point and hold the line, gunning down Collectors and maintaining their position as they wait for the commander. The doors slide open and they race through just as the seeker swarms attack.

They find Tali crouching on the other side, working at the controls while the team opens fire. Miranda’s taking down as many as she can, but they’re small and moving in inconsistent spirals, mashing together in black hordes that make them easier to aim for, but harder to take down. The gunfire is loud and the swarms are almost deafening, she barely hears Shepard barking in her ear.

“ _We’re in position!_ ” Miranda can’t be sure, but there’s a chance the raucous sounds of gunshots are coming from her comm as well as her surroundings. “ _We need this door open, now!_ ” Garrus orders Tali to get to work and she rushes to the opposite doors, Miranda and everyone else covering her as she goes. In seconds that feel like hours, Miranda hears the doors spring open and closed in quick successions before she spots Shepard at Garrus’s side, firing at the swarms and the approaching Collectors.

Tali is back at this door, tapping furiously with long fingers that blur as she works. Shepard orders them to fall back and both teams deliver suppressing fire, keeping every hostile from getting through. One Collector gets too close before Shepard guns it down and the doors finally come together, closing with a sharp _clack!_

“Nice work, Tali,” Shepard breathes, bending over to catch her breath. Tali sinks to the floor, her own breathing heavy, and the rest of the team slumps in exhaustion.

Miranda sighs, the adrenaline that had been thrumming through her whole body now depleting and leaving behind a tired chill. She brushes back a few strands of hair that escaped from her ponytail and glances at everyone else – Zaeed doubled-over and most likely cursing under his breath; Jack sitting on the ground, leaning back on her hands with her legs spread out in front of her and sweat shining on her neck as she turns her face to the ceiling and breathes; Thane leaning against a wall with his eyes closed, Jacob next to him and wiping the sweat off his forehead; Legion and Samara checking their guns and looking unruffled; Garrus and Kasumi crouching by Tali, talking quietly; Mordin pacing, his gun held tight and his lips uncharacteristically still; Grunt practically bouncing on his feet, jagged grin spread wide on his face.

Everyone is no worse for wear. They’ve managed to make it through this part of the mission, a feat Miranda hadn’t entirely believed they’d manage. So far so good. She walks down the path ahead of them, taking the time to scout alone while everyone’s resting. She leans over the cover of the wall and scans the area – empty. No sign of Collectors, seeker swarms, or any other kind of intergalactic horrors. She moves to get back to the others when something catches her eye.

“What is this?” Miranda nearly jumps out of her skin and turns to see Shepard standing behind her. Shepard brushes past her, eyes on thick tubes hanging above them. The others follow, their own eyes on the tubes as well as the thousands of pods lining the walls – pods like the ones on the last Collector ship they’d been in.

“Shepard,” Kasumi calls, beckoning her over. Miranda follows her as she approaches the pod Kasumi stands in front of – an unconscious human is trapped inside.

“Looks like one of the missing colonists,” Miranda says, noting their clothes. “Might even be from Horizon.” Shepard taps a finger against the pod’s glass-like surface, making the colonist twitch slightly in their sleep.

“There’s more over here,” Jacob points out. Miranda looks over in his direction and sees the unmistakable Cerberus uniform.

The Normandy crew. They’re all here, lined up and sleeping in their own pods. Shepard’s already going to them, her eyes hopeful as she gives them all a once-over. She finds Dr. Chakwas’s pod and touches its covering, smiling in relief.

“Forcing these things open might do more harm than good,” she says. “There’s gotta be a switch somewhere. Everybody search.” The team sets off to find the hypothetical switch while Miranda grows anxious.

“Shepard, we can’t stay here,” she says, moving toward her. “We’re too vulnerable. The Collectors could show up at any moment and we’d be sitting ducks.”

“What do you suggest?” Shepard asks, though judging from her tone and her frown, she already knows the answer.

“I say we focus on the task at hand. If we can’t find a way to save the crew in the next minute, we move on.”

“No.”

“Shepard—”

“I’m _not_ leaving them.” Shepard levels her with a glare the likes of which Miranda has never seen, at least not directed at her. “We came here to save our people and that’s what we’re gonna do. Get to work.” Miranda bites the inside of her cheek and walks away, to a corner of the room the others aren’t searching in.

This is exactly what the Illusive Man was afraid would happen. Shepard is losing sight of the primary goal and now is the time to act.

Miranda raises her arm, her back to the rest of the team. Her omni-tool appears, the activation protocols still open and ready. Her hand hovers over it, just barely trembling. She’s far enough so that the screen doesn’t register her command, but close enough that the smallest twitch could trigger it.

She’s an inch away from completing the mission. An inch away from total control.

It's in that moment that Miranda thinks of her father. Of how he'd wanted to run every part of her life, control everything, right down to her DNA. She'd fought to break free of his grip, and fought twice as hard so that Oriana wouldn't have to. So that no one would control either of them again.

Miranda looks over her shoulder, finding Shepard in the crowd easily. She’s staring up at one of the pods, the one with whom Miranda thinks is Engineer Daniels. Shepard brings a hand up to its covering and pats it, smiling tenderly up at her.

Miranda drops her arm, the omni-tool switching off. She closes her eyes and brings a hand to her face, fingers pressing at the bridge of her nose as she lets out a heavy sigh. Once she gathers herself, she sets off in the direction of the pods and starts her search.

The pods are still shut tight, but no hostiles have shown up, so they keep looking. Miranda’s feeling around the sides of the containers, trying to find a hatch or something, when one of the pods starts hissing. Steam shoots out of it loudly and the person in it, the colonist, is starting to stir. Dark patches begin to form on their body and grow rapidly, covering their skin and clothes. Shepard moves toward them just as their eyes snap open.

“Shit!” Shepard scrambles at the pod, yanking at the covering desperately as the colonist screams and bangs against the pod with their fists, the unidentifiable mass seeming to eat away at them. Garrus rushes over to help, but it’s too late. The colonist falls to their knees, their cries dying as surely as them, leaving nothing but a dark, bloody mess.

Shepard whips her head to the others and barks, “Get them out of there! Hurry!” Everyone hastens to obey. They wrench the pods open with their hands and bang the butts of their guns against them, their previous hesitation gone. Miranda spots Jack using her biotics to rip open the containers and copies her, opening one with a violent, glowing motion and catching Yeoman Chambers as she falls out. The others make their own progress, pods hissing everywhere, and all Normandy crewmembers accounted for.

“Dr. Chakwas?” Miranda lowers a stirring Chambers to her knees and turns at the sound of Shepard’s voice. The commander is nearby, holding the limp doctor close as she carefully brings her to the ground. “Doc? Are you okay?”

Dr. Chakwas seems to slowly regain awareness, her eyes fluttering open and her head no longer lolling to the side. She looks up at Shepard crouching in front of her, face blank until it opens up with recognition.

“Shepard?” The doctor’s voice is soft, weak from underuse and trauma. “You…you came for us.”

Miranda sees Shepard grin as the commander places a hand on Chakwas’s shoulder. “Of course I did.” Chakwas seems to crumple, leaning against Shepard who brings her hands to the doctor’s back in gentle pats.

“Miss Lawson?” Miranda turns back to see Chambers, fully conscious and looking right at her. “Is that you?”

“Yes. Can you stand?” Chambers nods and Miranda helps her get to her feet, the woman’s legs shaking all the while. Miranda moves to pull away, but Chambers’ hands hold tight to her arms, her head hung low and her whole frame trembling. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Chambers shakes her head. She raises her face to meet Miranda’s gaze and her eyes are shining with tears. Her voice is weepy and broken when she breathes, “Thank you, Miranda. _Thank you_.”

Miranda barely manages a nod in time before Chambers moves away, walking on nearly steady legs with her fellow crewmembers towards Shepard. Miranda makes eye-contact with a few of them and acknowledges their own thanks with more brief nods. She moves to the huddle as Dr. Chakwas tells the commander what happened to the dead colonist, what happened to _all_ the colonists. Her voice is shaking as she recounts the grisly details, but she presses on, her eyes trained on Shepard alone. All of the rescued Normandy crew are looking at the commander, their faces coated in relief and open gratitude.

Shepard is talking and Miranda should listen, but all she can think about is how she almost left these people to die. How she nearly _forced_ Shepard to abandon them to the same fate as the colonists. There are things that Cerberus has done that have kept her awake at night, had her question her devotion for a single moment before she shoves her doubts aside and gets back to work.

The doubts are too big now. They’re all standing around Shepard and gazing at her like a guiding light. There’s no way to ignore them this time.

“Do you know why they’re doing this?” Shepard asks the doctor. “Why they want our genetic material?”

“No, and I don’t want to.” Chakwas winces, looking ill. “I’m just glad you got here before it happened to us.”

“So are we,” Miranda says, walking to stand next to Shepard and surprising the others from the looks of their raised eyebrows. “But we still have a job to do.” Less surprise this time. Shepard brings a hand to her ear and contacts Moreau.

The main control room is close, but it’s locked by a security door. Their only way in is covered in seeker swarms and their armor, even with Mordin’s countermeasure, won’t be able to withstand them all.

“What about biotics?” Shepard suggests. “Can a biotic field keep them from getting at us?”

Samara answers after a moment of consideration. “I believe so. I wouldn’t be able to protect everyone, but I may be able to get a small team through if they stayed close.”

“Any biotic can, in theory,” Miranda adds. “You’d be better off with a Justicar, though, Shepard. You should take Samara.”

Shepard nods. “I was thinking the same thing. Thane, Kasumi, Mordin, and Legion – you’re coming with me and Samara through the seeker swarms. The rest of you can go through the main passage and provide a distraction. We’ll take care of the security doors from the other side and meet you there.

“Zaeed, you’re in command,” she says, turning to him. “Don’t fuck it up.”

“No promises,” Zaeed grounds out, readying his weapon.

“What about us, Shepard?” Chakwas asks. “We’re in no shape to fight.” As Miranda scans the crew and notes their obvious injuries, slow swaying, and exhausted faces, she knows the doctor’s right.

“ _Commander?_ ” Moreau’s voice filters in through the comms. “ _We have enough systems online to do a pickup, but we’d need to land back from your position_.”

“That’s it, then,” Jacob says. “We can’t make the crew fight. We have to take them to the ship.”

“Too many liabilities. Too risky,” Mordin adds, shaking his head. “Should send them back.”

“We can’t all go back,” Miranda says to Shepard. “It’s too big of a group.”

“I’m not making them fight,” Shepard says firmly. “And I’m not gonna leave them here, either.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that. One person should escort them back to the ship and stay there while the rest of us continue the mission.” Miranda turns when she feels all eyes pointed at her and raises an eyebrow at them. Some look away, but others – like Jacob and even Jack, though more aggressively – look upon her in confusion.

“Okay,” Shepard says, eyeing her as well. Miranda shrugs. Shepard gives her another odd look and turns back to the team. “Grunt, I need you to—“

“ _What?_ ” Grunt growls, glaring at Shepard. “No, you’re not making me sit-out.”

“You’re not sitting-out, I’m giving you a job.”

“No.”

“I wasn't asking, Grunt.” Shepard’s voice grows more commanding. Grunt gives up almost immediately, still snarling slightly, but with eyes pointed downward in defeat. The commander gives him a fond smile.

“I need you to do this right, Grunt. You need to get the crew to the Normandy without letting them or yourself get hurt.” Grunt nods, looking surlier by the second. “You do that, and I’ll find us a thresher maw when this is over.”

Grunt’s wide head snaps up. “Really?”

“Yep. We’ll eat it, too.”

Grunt’s long grin returns and he pulls up his omni-tool. “Joker, send me the coordinates.” In a moment, the crewmembers gather around him and he moves out, gun raised high and eyes determined.

“Alright, we’ve all got our orders,” Shepard says. “Let’s do this.”

It doesn’t take long for them to lose radio contact. The swarms surrounding Shepard and her team must be interfering with their signal. It makes Miranda antsy to not know how the commander is faring, but the mission must proceed. They fight through throngs of Collectors and even husks easily, but they lose their stride soon. The enemy has them cornered and Miranda is taking down as many as she sees, but they just keep _coming_.

“Fuckin’ hell!” Zaeed barks when a bullet flies too close. He presses a hand to his ear, still shooting, and shouts, “Shepard! Shepard, do you copy? Where the fuck are you?!”

“ _I copy._ ” Shepard’s voice finally, blessedly, reaches their comms. “ _What’s your position?_ ”

“We’re pinned at the bloody door! Taking heavy fire!” Miranda fires off round after round, nearly getting blindsided by a husk before it’s flung away by Jacob’s biotics.

“ _We’re coming, just hold on!_ ” The team keeps shooting, taking down one hostile after another, before the doors spring open and they barrel in. Shepard and her team join their efforts and open fire as soon as they come together.

“Seal the doors!” Shepard shouts. Miranda thinks Samara is working to do just that, but can’t be too sure – there are too many hostiles and she’s going through too many heat cartridges. There’s too much noise and lights and the Collectors are relentless. The doors start to close, but not quickly enough. Several bullets shoot through the gap as it shrinks. Miranda doesn’t see the one coming right for her until it’s too late.

“Miranda!” She hears Shepard cry out as she falls back, her back hitting the wall behind her. Her hand goes to her middle where it hurts the most, searing, but not blinding. She looks up when she feels a hand on her arm.

“Talk to me, Miranda.” Shepard’s face is tight with concern, but Miranda’s stuck on the sound of Shepard saying her name. When was the last time she heard it? Has it always sounded so sweet? “You okay?”

Miranda brings her hand back and looks down at it – no blood. Her stomach is already healing, much faster than it would were she wearing her uniform. The bullet didn’t quite hit her so much as jab at her, and her armor’s gleaming black surface barely has a scratch on it.

She straightens up. “Ready for duty, Commander.” Shepard looks at her for a moment longer and nods, lips pressed together tight. She moves away then, her hand sliding off of Miranda’s arm and leaving a cold absence.

Shepard talks to Moreau on the comms while Miranda stares at her back, wondering. The idea that Shepard’s still cares about her, even after what she’s said and done, is befuddling. That’s something she had to learn to expect from Jacob, and even then she isn’t too certain.

Miranda hurt her, she knows she did. She didn’t think she was capable of affecting someone as big and solid as Commander Shepard, but she somehow managed it. She’s taken down many people in her life using her words rather than her fists, the ability as innate as her biotics. She’s never felt so sorry afterwards, though. Never felt so small.

Miranda looks at the fan of Shepard’s eyelashes lying just over her cheekbone and considers who she is. She thinks about who Shepard wants her to be. Her head aches from fatigue as well as conflict. Her chest twinges for another reason entirely.

“ _Commander, you’ve got a problem_ ,” Moreau says. “ _Hostiles massing just outside the door. Won’t be long ‘till they bust through._ ”

“Then we’d better move quick,” Shepard says, facing the others. “I’ll take a small team with me to the main control console. The rest will bunker down here and defend this position.”

She scans the team before jerking her chin at her choice. “Miranda and Jacob. You’re coming with me.”

“Really?” Miranda asks before she can stop herself. Shepard shrugs and slants her a tiny smile.

“It started with the two of you. Might as well end it that way,” she says casually, unaware of how those words make a familiar tugging warmth open up in Miranda’s chest. She doesn’t manage not to smile as she climbs onto the platform after Jacob.

“We’re ready, Commander,” he says. “Anything to say before we do this?”

Shepard huffs out a short laugh. “How many speeches do y’all want today? Just do what you’ve been doing and it’ll be fine. Stay together and stay on the comms. We’ll be back soon.”

Jacob moves to the controls and the platform hums to life. They move away from the others, Shepard waving at them as she goes. A few wave back while Kasumi flashes her a thumbs-up and Jack flips her off with a sharp smirk. Once they’re out of sight, Shepard lowers her hand and her shoulders. Her gaze drops and she lets out a barely-audible sigh.

She’s fading. It was only a matter of time. No matter how broad her shoulders are, she must be struggling under the weight of all the lives counting on her now, in this final moment. Miranda aches to lessen the load, to ease her strain before she buckles.

“Hey,” she says lowly. She waits until Shepard meets her eye before she goes on. “We’re going to make it.”

Shepard’s eyebrows rise just a little. “You think so?”

“I know it. We’re going to win.”

Shepard gives her a thin smile – not overly convinced, but not willing to contradict her. She nods and faces forward, her posture returned and her gun up and ready. Just in time for another platform full of armed Collectors to fly into view.

They dispose of the enemy promptly, everyone well-accustomed to killing Collectors now. The platform stalls after the fourth wave and Jacob goes to the controls again. He’s kneeling and tinkering with it, probably with his bottom lip between his teeth like it always is when he’s working like this. Miranda and Shepard stand just behind him, guns raised and eyeing the surrounding area for any more hostiles.

Miranda keeps glancing at Shepard when she should really be watching for Collectors. The commander is moving in small steps around the platform, alert and focused, while Miranda can’t keep her eyes off of her long enough to do her job. Shepard licks her lips and she remembers the last time they were alone together with a jolt.

It’s so strange now, to know what those lips feel like. How those big hands feel sliding up her thighs and back, grabbing at her. It’s almost a sad memory, since she isn’t even sure she’ll ever get to have that again. Not after everything. Shepard might not even look at her again if they all survive this. There’s no way to erase what she’s done.

“Ah, shit,” Jacob mutters, making her and Shepard whip their heads to him. “Gonna need a little longer with this.”

The sound of his voice makes something click in Miranda’s mind. It’s the same slightly annoyed tone he uses when he’s disappointed in her, and the last few times he’d been disappointed had something to do with Shepard. About something Miranda had kept putting off.

“Commander,” Miranda breathes, facing her.

Shepard barely gives her a glance before looking away again. “What?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“Save it for later, we still have a job to do.”

“It can’t wait.”

“Well, it’s gonna have to,” Shepard says, her tone inviting no arguments. She turns to Jacob. “Any progress?”

Jacob tightly replies, “Almost got it. Just a little bit more.”

“C’mon, JT, we’re in the final stretch.” Miranda watches the commander pull up her omni-tool and fights against herself, words forming and popping at the tip of her tongue. “Got nothing on the rest of the team. Think something’s fucking with my signal—”

“Lo!” Miranda nearly yells, the name almost exploding out of her. Shepard slowly turns to her, her arm dropping back to her side. Miranda feels wobbly at the attention, but she pushes forward.

“I’m sorry about the time we fought on Minuteman Station,” she babbles. “I’m sorry I didn’t respect your feelings and belittled your anger. It was wrong and I’m sorry.”

Shepard’s eyes had grown wide as she spoke and she stares at her for a long minute. Jacob turns around, face incredulous.

“You’re doing this _now_?” he asks, his voice astonished. Miranda ignores him and looks only at Shepard, forcing herself to maintain eye-contact even when every part of her wants to run away. Shepard finally glances away for just a second before looking back at her, brow furrowed.

“When did we fight?” she asks, confused. Miranda nearly sputters.

“After I revived you. It was about your implant?” Shepard’s eyebrows rise in recognition.

“You mean, like…almost a year ago? _That_?”

Miranda nods. “Yes, that. And—and everything else. I’m just…I’m sorry.” Miranda’s shoulders go lax and she looks up at Shepard without trying to hide how clawed open, how exposed, she feels. Shepard meets her gaze steadily, wonderingly. After what feels like ages, she turns away, raising a hand to her face.

“Alright, apology accepted,” she says. “Jacob, the controls?” Jacob goes back to work, shaking his head and muttering to himself. Miranda feels a little disappointed and a lot off-balance. She should’ve known that one apology wouldn’t fix everything, but it is, embarrassingly, the best she can do. The platform jerks back into movement and the mission goes on.

The human Reaper is monstrous. Every stolen human had been processed to make this horror and Miranda wants it dead. Judging from the sickened fury lining Jacob’s face, he feels the same. Shepard makes her orders and they shoot the tubes holding the thing up, only to have more Collectors descend upon them. They make quick work of them and fire at the remaining tubes, sending the human Reaper falling below to die in darkness.

“Shepard to ground team. Status report,” Shepard says, hand on her comm. Static and gunshots come back to them, but the voice on the other side is mostly audible.

“ _Jack here. I’m tagging them as they come, but feel free to call for an exit anytime!_ ”

“Get to the Normandy. Joker, prep the engines. I’m about to blow this place to hell.” Shepard moves to the center of the room, readying the systems for the overload. She crouches to pull up the console and Miranda watches her work between scanning the area for any remaining threats – her eyes are hard and resolute.

She can’t believe she ever questioned Shepard’s ability to get the job done. The closer they are to the end, the more Miranda feels like an idiot for ever doubting her. She feels like an idiot about a lot of things concerning Shepard. She doesn’t know if that’s normal, but she’s not sure she hates it.

“ _Uh, Commander?_ ” Moreau’s voice comes through the comms. “ _I’ve got an incoming signal from the Illusive Man. EDI’s patching it through._ ” Miranda’s omni-tool lights up and she furrows her brow at it. She glances at Jacob to see him equally puzzled. It’s a little too early for a mission briefing. What could he want now, when they’re so close to ending this? She touches the right controls and the Illusive Man appears, small and projected in front of them.

“ _Shepard_ ,” he says promptly, hands behind his back. “ _You’ve done the impossible._ ”

“Not yet,” she replies, sounding like she’s only half-paying attention as she taps at the mechanism in front of her. “Save it for when this place explodes.”

“ _That’s what I wanted to talk about. I’m looking at the schematics EDI uploaded. A timed radiation pulse would kill the remaining Collectors, but leave the machinery and technology intact._ ”

“Uh huh. So?”

“ _This is our chance, Shepard,_ ” he presses on, not noticing or ignoring Shepard’s indifferent tone. “ _They were building a Reaper. That knowledge – that framework – could save us._ ”  Miranda's eyes widen as she realizes what he's getting at.

Shepard stops her work and looks over her shoulder, disgust clear on her face. “You’re joking.”

“ _I wouldn’t joke about the future of humanity. This technology—”_

“This _technology_ liquefied people. And it twisted the Protheans and turned them into monsters.” Shepard gets back on her feet and walks toward the projection. “This base is a fucking nightmare and we have to destroy it.”

“ _Don’t be short-sighted_ ,” the Illusive Man replies in the voice Miranda recognizes as him fighting against his impatience. “ _Our best chance against the Reapers is to turn their own resources against them._ ”

“I’m not so sure,” Miranda says, feeling herself glare at his back. “Seeing it firsthand…using anything from this base feels like a betrayal.”

“ _If we ignore this opportunity,_ that _would be a betrayal_ ,” he’s quick to say, anger still carefully reined in. “ _The Collectors were working directly with them. Who knows what information in buried there?_ ”

“Likely the kind of information we don’t want,” Jacob pipes up, crossing his arms. “How do we justify using the same resources that killed thousands for ourselves? What if we turn into the very thing we’re trying to beat?”

“ _Don’t be so naïve, Jacob,_ ” the Illusive Man bites out, finally losing his grip. “ _Our goal is to save humanity from the Reapers, at any cost. This base is a gift, we can’t just destroy it._ ”

“You’re unbelievable,” Shepard says, shaking her head. “What makes you think I can trust you with this? How do I know _you’re_ not gonna grow a Reaper next?”

“ _You know my motives. I’ve never hidden them from you. Imagine how many lives could be saved if we keep this base intact. Imagine how many would be lost if we—_ ”

“No.” Shepard snaps, fierce and absolute. “It’s not worth it. It’ll _never_ be worth it.”

The Illusive Man presses on, fighting to change her mind. Miranda sees the resolve in her eyes and knows she won’t be moved. He presses on, only becoming more transparent. Empty, like his projected form. She wonders what took her so long to see it. Gratitude, surely. Maybe even fear.

“ _You died fighting for what you believed,_ ” the Illusive Man says, wheedling Shepard. “ _I brought you back so you could keep fighting. I didn’t discard you because I knew your value. Don’t discard this facility. Think of the potential!_ ”

“My ship got blown up, you piece of shit,” Shepard bites out, glaring daggers at him. “I died alone in space. Now it’s the Collectors’ turn.”

“ _Miranda—_ ” The Illusive Man turns around to face her—“ _do not let Shepard destroy this base!_ _Use the protocol!_ ”

Miranda feels herself grow angry as she stares at the desperate, power-hungry old man she’s wasted years of her life on. He reminds her of another man of the same type, the type she thought she was done obeying. She locks eyes with Shepard through him, the commander’s fists clenched, but face apprehensive.

Fear made her go against her better instincts and follow that man for years. Now, she looks at Shepard, tall and stable and willing to take on the galaxy, she knows there’s nothing to be afraid of.

“No,” she asks, turning back to him with a scowl. “I don't think I will.”

The Illusive Man’s face grows severe. “ _I gave you an order, Miranda!_ ”

“I noticed. Consider this my resignation.” She places a finger on her omni-tool and cuts off the feed, watching him flicker and vanish just as he opens his mouth to reply.

Miranda’s heart pounds in her ears. She’s never been so willfully defiant since she ran away from her father and it makes her dizzy. At least until she looks up at Shepard to find her looking back at her, eyebrows raised high her lips spreading with a smile. Miranda thinks she smiles back, she can’t quite feel her face, but Shepard doesn’t seem to mind. She only grins wider and turns back to the console, continuing the mission.

Miranda jolts forward when a hand claps at her back and turns to see Jacob at her side. “So, I guess we’re unemployed now, huh?”

She blinks. “I didn’t realize you’d quit, too.”

“My resignation was implied. Space has a really tough job market. Maybe I’ll get into modelling, what do you think?” He gives her one of those easy smiles they used to share and she feels herself give a proper one in return.

“I think you might be too old for that.”

“Hurtful, but true. We can check the classifieds when we get back.”

The explosion is set-up and Shepard retracts the console. “Let’s move. We’ve got ten minutes before the reactor overloads.”

That’s when it happens. The room shakes and rocks from side to side, making them flail and fight for balance. A horrible mechanical roar comes from beneath them before it appears, one giant metal arm hoisting the rest of it up.

The human Reaper. Alive and shrieking.

They furiously shoot at the monstrosity. It swipes at them, blasts a devastating ray out of its gaping jaw, and makes the entire platform they’re on sway dangerously. Once they finally take it out, its second descent sends the platform down with it. They roll and scramble their way to level ground while the room lights up from the explosive impact of the human Reaper crashing to the ground. Platforms fly everywhere and Miranda only tells herself to run, run, _run_ while the room falls apart around them. She leaps onto a supported ledge and lands. She sees nothing but falling machinery and hears only crashes.

Then there’s nothing.

 

* * *

 

“Miranda? Miranda!” She opens her eyes and blearily sees Shepard pulling something off of her – a beam?  Shepard throws it aside and looks down at her again, dirt and blood marring her beautiful worried face. “Miranda? Can you hear me?” Miranda only stares up at her for too long and she looks stricken.

“I’m fine, I’m okay,” she says hastily and sits up, already starting to get her bearings. Shepard helps her to her feet, hands careful but firm on her upper arms. Miranda looks over her shoulder and sees Jacob standing nearby, holding onto his bleeding arm, but otherwise fine. He lifts his chin at her, question on his face. She nods at him and he returns it.

“ _Do you copy? Commander?_ ” Moreau calls out in their ears. “ _C’mon, Shepard, don’t leave me hanging, do you copy?”_

“I’m here, Joker,” Shepard says, keeping one hand on Miranda as she talks. “Did the ground team make it?”

“ _Oh, thank fuck. Yeah, all survivors onboard, we’re just waiting on you!_ ”

“We’re on our way, just keep—“

“Shepard!” Jacob shouts just as Miranda herself notices the seeker swarms circling them, clicking darkly. Shepard and pushes Miranda towards the way out, doing the same to Jacob as she shoots at the storm, having little effect. Miranda runs across the Collector base to the Normandy. The map on her omni-tool tells her she’s nearly there, and she barrels on. She wants to look over her shoulder and make sure the other two are still behind her, but she can’t risk slowing down, the best she can do for them is to not stop. The Normandy rises into view as a group of Collectors make chase.

The ship’s hatch opens and Moreau appears, gun at the ready. He shoots at the Collectors and Miranda leaps onto the waiting ship first. Jacob jumps in after, landing with a wince. Miranda turns and watches Shepard dashing to them, her heart in her throat, just as a falling beam takes out the platform in front of them and lengthens the gap between the Collectors and the Normandy.

Shepard doesn’t slow down. Miranda sees her race to the very edge of the cliff before she jumps over a distance she never could have made before the cybernetic implants. She barely makes it, her arms holding her up on the threshold as she dangles off the ship. Miranda grabs her arm and pulls her up, practically dragging her inside. She hears a dull, prodding sound and Shepard cries out through her teeth at the bullet’s impact. Miranda gives a final pull and yanks her inside completely just before Moreau slams the door shut and hobbles back to the bridge.

Miranda’s panting, her arms still around Shepard as she pulls her away from the door, the commander half-lying on top of her and gasping for breath, too. The ship doesn’t make a sound, but Miranda can feel it move, blasting through space as EDI counts down the last few seconds before the explosion. The ship rumbles and shakes and Miranda holds Shepard tight, closing her eyes and waiting for the end.

The ship jolts roughly and stills, the only sound now the thudding of Miranda’s heart and Jacob’s ragged breathing. She inhales and holds it, gripping onto the breath like she’s gripping onto Shepard. Shepard holds her back, her hands digging into her arms and her body still like she’s holding her breath, too.

“ _FTL speeds initiated,_ ” EDI finally says from all around them. “ _The Normandy has now escaped the blast-zone._ ”

Miranda and Shepard exhale like the air was shoved out of them. Jacob slumps from his position on the opposite wall, hitting the floor with a thud and a groan. Miranda glances up, but he waves her concern away and leans against the wall, eyes shut and breathing deeply. She feels Shepard moving and pulls away as the commander turns with a groan. She shifts until she ends up on her back on Miranda’s lap, her body upside down and still on top of Miranda. She relaxes on Miranda’s leg with another sigh.

Miranda looks down at Shepard, her head on her thigh. Stray hairs fall over her face, sticking to the blood and sweat, but Miranda can see her closed eyes. Her mouth is parted slightly as she breathes slowly like Jacob. She could almost be asleep.

Miranda brushes the hair off her face and her eyes open at the touch. Shepard looks up at her, and Miranda is reminded of the last time they’d looked at each other like this – back when Shepard was just a project that had woken up too early. It’s so familiar, yet so hugely different, especially when Shepard beams tiredly up at her and Miranda can’t resist smiling back.

“We did it,” Miranda breathes, her hand moving to cup Shepard’s face. Shepard’s eyes slide shut again and places her own hand on top of hers, leaning into her palm.

“Yup. Mission accomplished.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe y'all made it through all that. i hope it wasn't too boring! i tried to write around the cutscenes or only describe them briefly. i might've gone a lil bit overboard but im satisfied. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading! leave kudos or a comment if you've got the time!


	15. Follow Through

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 100+ KUDOS AND 2000+ HITS!! i wanted to get this up sooner in honor of the achievement, but circumstances wouldn't allow it. it's here now though! thanks so much for all the comments and the attention and for hanging on through sporadic updates and not-great pacing! this slow-burn was hella slow but you made it! and here's the payoff!
> 
> this chapter is another long one but it's essentially the ending. of me2 main story at least. more info at the end of the chapter. don't read it until ur done!! it's got spoilers!! 
> 
> my tumblr bcs hey why not: itsnobbie.tumblr.com
> 
> this was a lot of fun to write (less fun to edit) and i hope it's fun to read!

Miranda moves to the elevator, half a step behind Shepard and with an arm around Jacob for support. He’d insisted that he was fine, but he hadn’t managed to hide his wincing well enough when they’d all finally gotten off the floor of the cargo bay. Shepard’s not entirely stable either, but at least her limping is subsiding – she must already be healing like Miranda is. She’s moving quickly despite what little injuries she’d gotten on the mission and Miranda can tell it’s to check on everyone, even if Moreau already confirmed their safe return. Shepard would want to see for herself that they’re all present and accounted for, Miranda knows her well enough now to be certain of that.

The elevator slowly moves them to the CIC, thanks to EDI rerouting power. The ship isn’t in good shape, but Miranda is already mentally cataloguing the damage and knows it’ll be back in working order soon. They somehow got in and out of the Omega-4 Relay with shockingly minimal damage compared to what she’d been expecting. That they’d all survived is even more astounding, and it’s all thanks to the woman standing next to her whose still-armored boot is tapping on the floor rapidly, healed and antsy.

When the doors finally creak open, Shepard having to push it the rest of the way, they’re met with a burst of cheers. The Normandy crew, the ground team, and even Moreau cover the room, leaving almost no space for anyone to run up to Shepard, but Tali manages it regardless. She wraps her long arms around Shepard’s waist and hugs her hard, lifting her up while Shepard lets out a shocked laugh with her feet dangling off the ground.

Once she’s put back down, Shepard walks into the throng with an arm around Tali and the others go to meet her. She’s immediately circled on all sides, the crew covering her from Miranda’s view. Well, covering everything except her head. She’s taller than almost everyone else by a fair margin, but that doesn’t stop Jack from reaching up and putting Shepard in a headlock that’s probably more a display of affection than assault. Once she’s freed herself, Shepard is given innumerable slaps on the back and handshakes from the crew, who are looking at her with the same awe they did on the Collector base. They all look exhausted, but they’re still cheering and singing the commander’s praises, a few doing so literally.

Jacob huffs out a quiet laugh. “Damn, you’d think she went in there and saved them all herself.”

“Jealousy doesn’t become you,” Miranda says as she pulls him towards a chair. She helps him onto it and he settles down with a quiet groan. “I’m sure you’ll get a song, too.”

“Will you sing it?”

“Only if you get this wound looked at.”

“Nah, I’m okay with letting it fester. Infected wounds are manly.” He puts on a strong, overly deep scowl that breaks with a yelp when Miranda pokes his injured arm.

She leans on the wall next to him to watch the ongoing revelry – she can see Shepard a little better now, and she’s got one hand being grasped by Engineer Daniels and her other arm wrapped loosely around Yeoman Chambers’ shoulders. She’s smiling and accepting the crew’s tearful gratitude, even while some of the ground team are teasing her and jokingly demanding some appreciation be thrown their way.

“Speech, speech, speech!” Moreau chants from the far wall he’s leaning against, his hands cupped around his mouth. Shepard turns to scowl at him, but it’s too late. The whole room rings with calls for a speech, even Jacob joining in while Miranda fights back laughter at the commander’s look of exasperation.

“I’m tired!”

“We’re all tired!” Garrus yells back from near Moreau. “Just say some inspiring words so we can go to bed already!”

Shepard sighs deeply, but moves to the galaxy map’s controls – her usual post. She towers over everyone even more now and they all look up at her, eager despite their fatigue. Shepard sweeps her eyes over all of them until they land on Miranda, meeting her gaze squarely.

She gives her a weary look that says a million words. Miranda replies with a smirk and a nod in the direction of the waiting crew. Shepard sighs again, but her face is spread in a smile as she faces the audience before her.

“So,” she begins, leaning both hands against the railing in front of her. “We killed the Collectors.”

She’s met with cheers straight out of the gate, the crew and ground team clapping and whooping in victory. Jacob puts his fingers in the corners of his mouth and throws in a loud whistle while somewhere in the back, Zaeed settles for raising his flask in acknowledgement.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure we’d pull it off,” Shepard continues. “I mean, I was _pretty_ sure. I came back from the dead, how hard would it be to take out a bunch of creepy bug things? But then we had to deal with their creepy _little_ bug things that paralyze you. Then came the husks and all manner of weird shit.

“And then,” she says, looking at her hands. “The crew got taken. I didn’t think this mission could get any worse, but it did.” She pauses for a moment and the room is silent. Some of the crew are looking downwards as well while some others keep looking at her with tight faces. She finally looks up, eyes pained.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been there to keep this from happening, but I wasn’t. It never should’ve gotten this bad.” She speaks softly and seems to look every single person in the eye, looking like she can feel their pain from the way her hands tighten on the railing.

“But we did it,” she says, voice growing more firm. “We got our people back and we wiped the Collectors out. They’re gone and they’re _never_ coming back, not after we blew them out of the galaxy. They tried to take us all, but guess what? We’re still fuckin’ here! And they’re dead!” The cheers return, combined with clapping and foot stomping that bounce off of the walls loudly.

“They thought they could use the human race for whatever sick experiments they wanted to do, but they didn’t count on us working together.” Shepard points at her ground team. “And they sure as hell didn’t expect us to make friends! We’ve all united, regardless of what planet we’re from, to save the universe. Today we honor every person we lost to the Collectors, human or otherwise, and we'll celebrate how we made sure it never happens to anyone again. We did it. Nice work.”

The applause is near-deafening and Miranda can’t believe these people have the energy to be so loud. Their faces are red and some of them are crying, but the crew is still on their feet and cheering for Shepard and for themselves. Miranda looks at Shepard and sees her smiling kindly at them, letting them have their moment. After some time, she raises her hand and gets the crowd to die down before she speaks again.

“There’s something else you should know.” She looks serious and Miranda can tell where this is going. “The Normandy is officially no longer a Cerberus vessel. Both Miranda and Jacob have resigned and I was never really part of the organization to begin with. This ship is technically stolen property and we’re on the run.” The crew gape at her, some of them whispering words of disbelief and others only staring mutely.

“The Illusive Man won’t take this lightly,” Shepard goes on. “He’s almost definitely gonna be coming for our heads. As soon as we get the ship running, we’ll drop you all off anywhere you like. That goes for _all_ of you.” She turns to the members of the ground team, who look mostly unbothered. Grunt even laughs like she’s being ridiculous.

“I’d understand if you were still loyal to Cerberus,” she says, looking at the crew sincerely. “You’ll be safely escorted wherever you want. You can make contact with them there and be on your way.”

“Commander?” Mess Sergeant Gardner steps forward, looking haggard, but mostly steady. “With all due respect, Cerberus didn’t save me from that hell. _You_ did. I’m going wherever you’re going.” Some of the others nod and murmur their approval, going to stand beside him while a few others hang back, looking unsure.

Shepard shakes her head. “I appreciate the thought, but it’s going to be dangerous. He’s gonna hunt us all down.”

“Not the first time someone’s wanted to kill us because of you,” Tali says, arms crossed over her chest. “At least the ship’s nicer now.”

“And if you think I’ll let anyone else fly this baby, you’re out of your mind,” Moreau says from the wall.

“ _I cannot ‘leave’ the ship, but even if I could, I would also refuse_ ,” EDI says from all around them. “ _And I would much prefer it if Jeff were to remain, as well.”_

“See? Now I _have_ to stay.”

“I’m staying, too,” says a woman, a crewmember named Hughes. More people throw in their own wishes to stay, including Dr. Chakwas and the entire ground team, who look like they were never planning to do otherwise. Others like Chambers and the engineering team voice their gratitude for being rescued, but can’t bring themselves to remain on the ship. Shepard accepts their resignations and promises to take them somewhere safe as soon as the ship is at full power.

While all this is happening, Miranda watches Shepard as she puts people on her side, even when they want to abandon their posts. This is nothing like the way the Illusive Man treats his people, the way he rules over them and controls with threats and fear. She’s brought them together with care and is letting them go the same way. Miranda understands why people seem to be drawn to her, how quickly she inspires loyalty in even the most cunning of Cerberus operatives. She thinks she should be embarrassed by being taken in so completely, but she only feels stable. Like she’s finally found something strong to lean on.

While the crew and ground team talks among themselves, Shepard steps off the controls and looks around until she finds Miranda, locking eyes with her and walking over.

“Hey, JT,” she says, patting his shoulder gently. “Holding up okay?”

“Getting there,” he says easily enough, even as he twitches at her touch. Shepard looks at Miranda and then looks away, shuffling a little on her feet. Miranda waits until she eventually faces her again, a nervous hand at the back of her neck.

“Hey,” she says softly. “Talk later?”

Miranda nods.

 

* * *

 

As Dr. Chakwas is understandably unable, Mordin volunteers to check the crew and ground team over. Miranda finally takes off her armor and assists him, knowing she likely needs the least attention. Any injuries she might still have can be taken care of by herself later. For now, she works on wounds and checks for concussions, being thorough and ignoring the exhaustion that’s starting to creep up on her.

She’s also growing anxious – she wants to help make sure everyone is tended to, but the longer she’s in the medbay, the more it prolongs she and Shepard’s talk and she can’t decide if that’s a good thing. Now that the immediate danger is over, she’s started thinking about everything else and has worried herself into an anxious spiral.

She has no idea what Shepard wants to talk about. Well, she has _some_ idea, but she doesn’t want to get her hopes up. Not that they exist in the first place.

Miranda exchanges her bloodied medical gloves with a fresh pair and gives her head a quick shake. No, stop it. She doesn’t have to think that way anymore. She’s not a Cerberus operative. She doesn’t have to pretend. She can be honest with herself. With Shepard.

Not for a while, though. There’s still so much to do before Miranda can find any kind of free time. She helps the crew and then immediately goes to check on the Normandy’s systems. They don’t necessarily have a set destination now that the mission’s over, but they’re working to stay in safe space with a relatively working engine. Tali and Garrus are working with EDI and Moreau to get everything close to working order, not too easy of a feat with the engineering crew out of commission, but they manage. After that, she, Zaeed, and Kasumi take out anything resembling a tracker in every room of the ship, even the restrooms. There is a staggering amount, several of them Miranda didn’t even know about. They locate and dispose of them while EDI removes any security programs in her own systems, making them effectively nonexistent as far as the Illusive Man is concerned.

He is another issue entirely. Miranda knows that she’ll be hunted, likely for the rest of her life. She’ll have to keep running until she finds a way to take the man out or he gets to her first. Oriana will be in danger, but Miranda won’t be cutting off ties to her sister. Not now, when she finally gets to have one. No, she’ll figure out a way to stay low and keep Oriana safe.

Miranda does one final check of the armory, knowing she’s likely found every bug that’s in here, but wanting to make sure. The place is so big and cold without Jacob in it – he’s been forced into resting by Miranda’s stern orders and Mordin’s murmurs of putrid wounds and amputations and his absence is palpable. Miranda doesn’t come to this room much, but whenever she does, he’s always here, smirking the way he does when he’s laughing at her on the inside. Now it’s just a bunch of walls covered in weapons and not much else.

She sighs, leaning against the counter – Jacob’s usual post. She’s completely sure that every tracking device has been destroyed and she can’t really think of anything else to do. Everyone on the ship who’s able has been working hard. She even saw Shepard and Samara helping out down in the cargo bay, lifting crates and putting them in order with their biotics. Miranda had been on her way to the engine room at the time and only glanced at her for a second, but it was long enough to note her vastly improved form and relaxed shoulders as she telepathically moved giant 1-ton containers.

She’s come so far, Miranda thinks now with a quiet smile. And now that they’ve all made it through the mission, she has the rest of her life to go even further. Miranda has no doubts in her mind that Shepard will live until she’s too old to pick up a pistol – something that may never actually come to pass, considering her cybernetic implants and her intense workout regimen. The woman might outlive Miranda without trying. The Illusive Man won’t be able to get a hold of her, even without Miranda making sure of it.

But he’ll try. He’ll use any resource to either bring Shepard under his control or get rid of her entirely. The thought makes Miranda’s blood boil and she brings up her omni-tool. The protocol appears immediately, the little symbol on the screen still ready to be touched. There’s no way the Illusive Man gave her the only copy. Even if he hadn’t expected her to turn on him, he’d never throw away a trump card this powerful.

Which means that Shepard is still vulnerable. At any moment, he could pull the trigger and control her completely. He could force her to kill them all, dispose of everyone on the ship single-handedly and then EDI, disposing of every evidence of his loss. He could make her fly the Normandy right back to him and use her to further the goal of human supremacy against her will, make her destroy and kill dissenters at his every beck and call.

Or he could have her space herself. Throw her body onto the Normandy’s engine. Use her own biotics to crush her bones. Or just keep it simple and have her put a bullet in her own head.

Miranda shakes herself for the second time today – she needs to get a grip. If the Illusive Man had any way of doing all of that, he would have done it already. He would have stopped Shepard from blowing up the Collector base himself, rather than ordering Miranda to do it. She’s certain that he has his own way of activating the protocol, but there must be a reason he didn’t.

Miranda moves away from the counter and walks out of the armory. She enters the tech lab and finds Mordin at his usual place. He looks up as she enters.

“Ah, Miss Lawson, good. Meant to find you,” he says as he walks around the table toward her. Before she can ask exactly why he’s encroached on her personal space with a small silver tool in one hand while the other moves to her mouth, he says, “Have been removing cyanide capsules from Cerberus personnel. Won’t hurt much. Open wide.”

“Later,” she says, stepping back and lifting her omni-tool to his eye-level. “What do you know about microbots?”

 

* * *

 

It’s hours later when Miranda gets the message..

**[Cdr Shepard: i’ll be in my room. come up when u can.]**

She wraps things up with Mordin and goes straight for the elevator. Every second it takes creaking its way up to the commander’s quarters making the nerves bundled up in her chest go tighter, not helping her mild toothache. She walks into the room and Shepard is standing near her desk, out of armor and looking smaller and softer in a shirt and sweatpants. The look on Shepard’s face is more complicated than soft, however, and she puts her hands in her pockets.

“So,” she says, voice low. “We should probably talk.” Miranda nods and she walks further into the room, Miranda following. Shepard sits on the bed before seeming to think better of it and moving to the sofa. Miranda does the same, not bothering to hide the small bit of amusement on her face. Shepard purses her lips at her, and it only makes Miranda smile bigger.

It’s silent for a long moment. The empty aquarium on the other side of the room hums quietly, regulating the water’s temperature for fish that were already killed when EDI got rid of the invading Collectors. Miranda doubts they’re the reason Shepard’s looking down at her folded hands with tired eyes and an expression like she’s searching for the words to say. Miranda decides to let her find them, knowing she has a lot to answer for. She’s making herself as comfortable as she can on the couch despite her unease when Shepard finally turns to her.

“What’s the protocol?” she asks in a voice that tells Miranda that she’s afraid of the answer. Miranda sighs through her nose – this was bound to be the first topic of discussion. She has no reason to hide anything from her, so she answers her question, telling her everything she knows about the microbots: where they came from, how they got inside her, and what they can do. The longer she talks, the higher Shepard’s eyebrows rise, her eyes widening with each explanation. Once Miranda’s done, she stares at her, mouth slightly open and face a picture of shock.

“What the fuck,” she breathes.

“I know,” Miranda says.

“ _Fuck._ ”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is. I wanted it from the start. Back when I headed the Lazarus project to rebuild you.”

Shepard furrows her brow at her. Miranda looks away now as she says, “I was going to put a control chip in your brain as a safeguard. He got the idea from me.”

Silence falls again, Miranda’s words weighing heavy in the air. It’s several seconds before Shepard speaks again.

“What stopped you?” she asks, voice soft in the still room.

“The Illusive Man. I told you before, he demanded nothing less than the genuine article.” Miranda scowls at the memory, feels revulsion at the idea that she’d been _angry_ when she was refused the control chip. That she’d considered it a waste. “He wanted Commander Shepard, not somebody who’d just obey orders. Evidently, his feelings changed.”

Miranda chances a look at Shepard and finds her sitting hunched with her elbows on her knees, her hands linked together loosely and her face pointed straight ahead. She doesn’t look angry, only thoughtful, when she says, “How long have you known?”

Miranda’s answer is speedy. “He told me when we were on route to the Omega-4 Relay.”

“Did you know when we…?” Shepard gives her a vague sidelong glance instead of finishing her question and Miranda doesn’t need her to.

“No. It was after that.” Shepard nods, keeps nodding, and still doesn’t quite look at her.

“Can he still do it?” she asks. “Control me?”

“I believe so.” Shepard’s shoulders tense at her answer. “He said he’d given me the only copy of the activation codes, but—”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t put it past him to have a backup.” Shepard rubs at her mouth with a hand and keeps it there, her jaw clenched and her expression tight.

“He can’t reach you here,” Miranda says quickly, turning her body towards her in her need to take the worry out of her face. “We’re light years out of range.”

“How do you know?”

“I talked to Mordin.” Shepard’s eyes flick to her general direction. “He has knowledge of the technology the Salarians used to make the microbots. He’s certain that the Illusive Man can’t get to you from where he is.”

Shepard’s frame relaxes just a little, but she lets out a sigh like she’d been holding a planet. “Okay. So, you’re the only one who can do it.”

“No, I’m not.” Shepard furrows her brow again. “I don’t want the protocol and I never want to use it. So, after making sure Mordin won’t need them to get the things out of you, I destroyed them. Really,” she adds when Shepard raises an eyebrow at her. She still looks a little skeptical, or like she isn’t sure why she _should_ believe it. Miranda can’t blame her. But she can try to convince her.

“The Illusive Man and I tried to do to you what my father did to me for years,” Miranda begins, her own voice going quiet and careful. “What he tried to do to Oriana. I risked my life to get my sister away from all of that and then I almost—” She shakes her head and clenches her hands on her lap. Her finger was hovering over the trigger just hours ago and she was just a gesture away from doing the unforgivable. She takes a deep breath and goes on, determined to get this all out while she can.

“After everything I’ve been through, everything I’ve run from, I almost destroyed your free will when I had the power. If the Illusive Man hadn’t denied me, I’d have already done it months ago. I’d understand if you can’t get past this, but you need to know.” She faces Shepard and finds her looking right back at her, her expression impossible to read. It makes Miranda’s chest ache and she grasps for breath.

“I’m so sorry. For everything. I regret wanting that chip and I regret nearly letting that man control you.”

Shepard says nothing for a long moment. She moves her hand and hesitates for a second before taking Miranda’s, holding it gently. Miranda tightens her own hand, squeezing as much as she thinks she’s allowed to. When she does, Shepard closes her hand around hers more fully and it’s warm and soft and Miranda never wants to let go.

“Okay,” Shepard says, hand squeezing Miranda’s again. “Okay.” They sit like that for a while, hand in hand and neither of them saying a word. Miranda doesn’t know if it’s minutes or hours that pass before Shepard speaks again.

“Was that why you quit?”

Miranda thinks it over for a minute. “It was…part of the reason.”

“What was the other part?”

“Besides the Illusive Man wanting to keep the base?” Shepard nods. Miranda rakes a hand through her grimy hair. “It’s…everything just piled up. It was all there, but I didn’t see it. Didn’t _want_ to see it. Cerberus was the first decision I made for myself after I ran away and I wanted to keep it. So I ignored everything else. It was all I needed, all I wanted. Then I found something else I want.”

“What’s that?”

“I think…I think I want to be happy,” Miranda says slowly, voicing a thought she’d never allowed herself to have for long. “Without having to sacrifice parts of myself I didn’t think I still had.”

“What do you mean?”

“Working for Cerberus means putting your conscience on hold. It means focusing on all the good it does and pretending it justifies all the bad. Jacob struggled with that for so long. I don’t think he ever stopped.” Miranda remembers every frown, every click of his tightly clenched jaw when he’s made to do something less than morally sound. He hadn’t even approved of the Lazarus project, not really. He’d kept his mouth shut, but she’d known that he’d been uncomfortable with the idea of bringing a fallen soldier back to life to serve their organization. “I’ve seen scientists and soldiers unable to come to grips with what they have to do, what they have to allow. I always thought they were weak, uncommitted to the cause. I never thought I’d be one of them.”

“How long have you been thinking about this?”

“I don’t know. Years? It’s always been something in the back of my mind, something I suppressed because it felt like a betrayal or I had bigger concerns. It’s hard to ponder your career path when you’re desperately trying to revive a famous commander.” Shepard smirks and Miranda hopes that's a good sign. “It turns out that I really don’t care that much about human supremacy. I just felt like I owed the Illusive Man for giving me a chance to grow on my own.” She definitely didn’t grow the way he’d wanted, but she doesn’t care. She got here with her own power and she found a lot more than hefty research grants and clean-pressed catsuits. “I did a lot because of that gratitude. But I’m done now. I’m done.”

They’re quiet again for another undetermined period of time with Shepard giving her a long, searching look. Miranda tries to meet it steadily, looking right back at her with an honesty she’s not used to, but one she’s desperate to project. Even if it doesn’t go anywhere, even if Shepard never sees her the same way again, she needs to know that she’s telling the truth. Nothing else matters.

“I think I need some time to think,” Shepard mutters, still looking at her in that thorough way.

Miranda nods. “Of course.” That makes sense. Anyone would need a moment to gather their thoughts after all of that. Miranda keeps that completely reasonable request in mind, regardless of her rising dread.

“And you need to shower.”

“Right. I’ll just—” Miranda starts to pull her hand away to leave, but Shepard holds fast.

“You can shower here,” she says, smiling at Miranda’s confusion. “The bathrooms downstairs will be packed by now.” Miranda just blinks at her, not sure what the joke is. “I’m serious. Use my shower. Take your time and enjoy the hot water. I’ll be here.”

Miranda isn’t sure how to take this, doesn’t even know how to tell her that her office has a private shower. So, she doesn’t. She just runs down to grab some clothes and obediently walks into the commander’s shower.

The water is perfect and the pressure is even better than in her bathroom, but she’s still dazed. What does this mean? Is Shepard angry? She didn’t _seem_ angry. Maybe she’s throwing things in her room in a fit of rage right now. Maybe she’s telling Jacob everything to get him on her side and have them fight again. Maybe she needs Miranda out of the room so she can ready her pistol.

Or maybe she really does just need time alone to process and Miranda’s being ridiculous. In any case, it doesn’t help to panic about it when she should be scrubbing dried blood off her arm instead. She takes her time as ordered and gets every part of herself clean, even getting behind her ears before she gets tired of stalling and grabs her towel.

She walks out of the bathroom with wet hair and wearing an old shirt and tights. True to her word, Shepard is still sitting on the sofa. Her elbow rests on the back of the couch and her hand is on her face. She looks deep in thought and doesn’t look up until Miranda shuffles awkwardly near the door. Miranda sees her smile behind her fingers and it simultaneously puts her at ease and on edge.

Shepard silently beckons her with her finger and Miranda obeys, at a loss for what else to do. She sits next to her at an appropriate distance and Shepard watches her, still smiling that suspicious smile.

“Did you have a good shower?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Great. You were in there a while. Gave me time to mull things over.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Shepard gives her a considering look. “I thought of about a dozen reasons why you might be lying to me.” She’s boring into Miranda with eyes that force her to remain still. “Maybe you need protection from whatever the Illusive Man’s gonna throw at you. Maybe you figure you’d profit more with me in change. Maybe you know that if you hadn’t refused to use the protocol when you were told to, it’d end badly for you.”

Miranda nods - the thought _had_ come to her mind, but never for long. She knows how easily taking control of Shepard could go south. There are too many variables – how long would it last? Would she be conscious? Would she be able to fight it? Probably. And even if she couldn’t, it’s not as if Jacob would let it continue, which opens up more ways this would have ended terribly.

She doesn’t like thinking about it.

“I also came up with a reason why you might be telling the truth.” Shepard is looking at her the same way she had on the Collector base after Miranda had hung up on the Illusive Man. It’s different now, though, less pleasantly surprised and more fondly amused. “Maybe you do really like me. More than you know what to do with. And you feel bad about being kind of a dick to me throughout our whole relationship and this is your way to atone.”

Miranda smiles through a wince. “I’m not sure about all that.”

“Uh huh. You should know I haven’t decided which one I’m going with yet.” Miranda meets her gaze steadily and watches her lips spread in a slow smile. “But I know one thing for sure. You brought me back. That matters to me,” she adds when Miranda gives her a perplexed look.

“That doesn’t excuse—”

“It’s not an excuse, it’s a fact.” Shepard takes a strand of Miranda’s wet hair between her fingers and Miranda goes even more still, somehow. “I lost two years of my life and you gave me the rest of it. That’s enough reason for me to give you a chance to earn my trust again.”

This doesn’t mean she’s forgiven. Miranda can see it on Shepard’s face, gentle and smiling, but no less serious. She knows this might be a long and difficult process, but a bubble of hope expands in her chest regardless. She looks into Shepard’s warm eyes and feels her feather light touches in her hair and knows that Shepard wants her to try, to succeed. She wants this to work and that’s enough reason to do whatever it takes to get there.

“Alright,” Miranda says confidently. “I can do that.”

Shepard grins. “Good. I look forward to it.” Miranda smiles back at her and something passes over Shepard’s face. She reaches out and brushes back a chunk of her damp hair. Miranda doesn’t move, keeps her eyes on her and feels the air change between them.

“Can you do something for me?” Shepard murmurs.

“Anything.”

“Say my name again.”

Miranda blinks. “Why?”

“I want to hear it.”

“Again, _why?_ ”

“Your accent makes it sound weird. Like, 'Lahr’. It’s funny.”

Miranda frowns and turns away. “Absolutely not.”

“Please?”

“I won’t.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Nahr.” Miranda pushes at her shoulder and Shepard takes her hand before she can pull away. She leans in close to whisper, “Please say it.”

Miranda rolls her eyes, even as she takes a second to remember how to breathe. “Shepard.”

“Miranda.”

“I said it.”

“No, you didn’t. Say my first name.” Shepard’s starting to do something dangerously close to a pout now and Miranda bites back a smile. She straightens and brings herself closer, moving past Shepard’s face.

She pauses for a breath before she whispers into her ear, “Philomena.”

Shepard groans hugely and lurches back, covering her face with her hands. “No, _god_ , not _that!_ ” She falls on her back onto the sofa cushions and Miranda laughs and laughs, thoroughly enjoying Shepard’s mortification. She soon hears Shepard laughing, more likely at her than at herself and she doesn’t care, can’t care. She feels light in a way she hasn’t in years.

The future is dangerous and there’s no certainty, but it’s open and there for her to do whatever she wants with it. She can do anything. And as she watches Shepard giggling with an arm still covering her eyes in embarrassment, she knows what she has to do first. For once, she’s not overthinking it or panicking. She’s not going to distract herself with thoughts of failure.

She’s going to visualize success. And then she’s going to achieve it.

 

* * *

 

To Shepard’s credit, it takes a while. Miranda has to do everything she can to prove her sincerity, stays on her best behavior, and is almost obnoxiously helpful and considerate. Shepard is clearly amused by her attempts. Jacob is disturbed. He soon becomes so desperate to make her stop, he resorts to talking to Shepard himself to plead her case. Shepard goes easier on her after and often stops to talk when they cross paths or gives her a wave from across the crew deck.

Eventually, Mordin finishes the countermeasure. He’s exceedingly excited with his work, his usually rapid speech becoming nearly unintelligible as he explains the process. Miranda is with Shepard when he presents her with the injection and warns her of the physical side-effects that will, while temporary, give her considerable discomfort. Shepard doesn’t hesitate. She tilts her head to one side as Mordin presses the syringe to her neck.

Shepard stays in her room afterwards, Miranda with her. She’s lying on her bed, eyes closed and fists clenched at her sides as the synthetic antibodies destroy the microbots, burning her from the inside. Miranda can see how rigidly she’s holding herself and has to constantly remind her that she has to stay relaxed for the antidote to work.

It’s hard to watch her suffer through this, knowing she’s partly to blame. She doesn’t leave, though, especially after the third time Shepard insists that she can stay if she wants to, and she really wants to. She sits on a chair next to the bed, pressing a cooling pad onto Shepard’s forehead, but the commander is still sweating buckets.

She lets out a weak little laugh. “I haven’t been this sick since I was a kid. God, this sucks, how did I handle it when I was so tiny?”

“I doubt it was this bad back then,” Miranda says, brushing back Shepard’s damp bangs.

“Oh, it was. You read my file, I had a damn stroke.”

“That’s true. That must’ve been frightening for you.” Miranda has been perfectly healthy her entire life. She can’t imagine being as ill as Shepard had been as a child, even if it was only due to her latent biotic abilities. The fevers, weakness, and eventual stroke were hard to read about and it’s even harder to believe that such a sickly girl grew up to be such a force of nature.

“It was scarier for my moms and brother than it was for me,” Shepard murmurs. “I just blacked out. They had to watch it happen and take me to the hospital. Don’t wanna think about what that must’ve been like.”

“I’m sure they’re glad you grew up so healthy, then.”

“Ha. Maybe _too_ healthy.” Shepard is quiet now, eyes closed less tightly and breathing soft. Miranda checks on the cooling pad and replaces it, putting another one on her scorching neck. Shepard shivers and stills.

“I wrote them back, you know,” she says quietly. “My moms.”

“Oh?” Miranda is aware of this, and she has the feeling Shepard knows she is, but she pretends anyway. There’s a chance she’s actually forgotten due to the intense fever and it’d be best not to make her think too much.

“It was hard. Didn’t know where to start. I don’t think I’m who they remember anymore.”

“Is that so terrible?”

“I don’t know. I’m scared.” Her voice breaks and she sniffs. Her eyebrows come together tightly and Miranda can see her fighting to keep it together. “What if this isn’t good enough? What if they don’t want me like this?”

“That won’t happen.”

“Maybe. I wasn’t good to them before. But at least my eyes didn’t glow.” Shepard lets out a watery laugh and drapes her arm over her face, likely hiding the oncoming tears. Miranda sits quietly next to her, feeling powerless. It would be easier to mend a broken bone or bring a slab of meat back to life. She doesn’t know what to say that would fix this, doesn’t know the solution to this kind of problem.

“I like the eyes,” she says eventually, going for broke. “They’re good for intimidation. And finding things in the dark.” Shepard gives another feeble laugh from behind her arm. “I think your mothers wouldn’t care. They’d just be happy you’re back.”

Shepard moves the arm just a little and peeks up at her. “Really?”

“Really. Remember what Carter said?” Shepard removes her arm completely and nods, a soft smile on her face. “I’m sure your mothers feel the same way.”

Shepard seems to give this some thought, eyes wet and blinking. Miranda waits, growing more tense by the minute until she sighs, her eyes sliding shut again.

“Okay,” she breathes. “Thanks.” Miranda nods, even if she can’t see it. It’s still a little uncomfortable in the room, and Miranda fiddles with the corner of the blanket.

“So,” she says, breaking the silence. “I saw that you replied to Alenko.”

Shepard’s eyes snap open. “Oh my god, Miranda.”

“It was very short.”

“ _So_ creepy.”

“What sort of relationship did you two have anyway?”

Shepard laughs, looking embarrassed. “I wouldn’t call it that.”

“What _would_ you call it?” Shepard turns to give her a suspicious look, smile still going strong. “What?”

“You’re so interested.”

“It’s an interesting subject.”

“You sure you’re not just jealous?”

“Maybe a little,” Miranda says with a shrug. Shepard raises her eyebrows and gives her a look that almost seems impressed. Miranda crosses one leg over the other and places her elbow on top of it, resting her chin on her hand in a great show of attention. Shepard lets out another quiet laugh and settles herself more comfortably against her pillows.

“Alright, fine. You might not like me very much when I’m done, though.”

“Try me.”

Shepard clears her throat. “It all started when a Prothean artifact blew up in my face…”

 

* * *

 

Shepard recovers quickly enough, and a thorough check from Mordin confirms that she is free of mind-controlling microbots. The antibodies have destroyed themselves as well, and she’s back to being mostly organic again.

Once she’s able, the commander goes off on any mission that requires her attention, evidently having been bored just sitting around and then just _lying_ around when she’d been on bedrest. Every time she comes back onto the Normandy, she comes straight to Miranda’s office to tell her about her trip, usually sporting a mild injury, but excited nevertheless. Miranda would go with her on these little outings, but she has too much to do here, too much to prepare for. She enjoys Shepard regaling her with her adventures, though, loves the way her eyes light up when she describes biotically launching a varren several miles in the air.

Miranda has only accompanied her twice – once to the abandoned Cerberus base to take out what was supposed to be a rogue VI and to keep Shepard from decapitating the chief scientist once they found out what it really was, and another time to the wrecked SSV Normandy on Alchera. The two of them silently find all the dog tags before setting up the monument. Shepard stares up at it for a long time, Miranda beside her and holding her hand. She doesn’t complain when Shepard squeezes a touch too hard, only holds it more firmly and waits.

One mission is longer than the others, and Shepard just tells her that she’s going to Illium to help her friend. She only takes Kasumi with her and that alone is worrying enough. She’s back a couple of days later than she’d said, but she’s in one piece, so Miranda is thankful. She doesn’t get a visit from her this time, which is odd, so she goes straight to her quarters to check on her. On the way out of the elevator, she bumps into Liara T’Soni, more than a little shocked to see her again after so long.

Liara greets her quietly, looking at her with a complicated expression that Miranda can’t decipher. She looks older than she did when she was handing Shepard’s body over to Cerberus. There’s a severity in her eyes where there was once grief. They stand there, just looking at each other for a few more seconds until Liara speaks.

“Thank you,” she says simply, face softer now. “Take care of her.”

With that, she leaves. Miranda walks into Shepard’s room and finds the commander sitting at her desk. She’s staring at something in her hands that Miranda sees more clearly once she approaches, being sure to make some noise as she does. Shepard’s dog tags still glitter in the light, even with the corners scorched and the name barely legible.

Miranda touches her shoulder in a way that comes easily now. Shepard covers her hand with her own.

All these trips just prove that Shepard is healthy and active, so Miranda doesn’t mind her being gone so much. Mostly. She usually just messages Oriana and updates her on everything now that very little is really considered classified. She only starts to get concerned when Shepard returns from the Citadel with Jack and Grunt in tow – always a bad sign. Miranda’s in the crew deck when Shepard sheepishly shows her what’s supposed to be a new tattoo on the back of her neck that looks like a cartoonishly drawn thresher maw. It’s starting to heal already, not too visible against her skin, but it’s still there, and Miranda gapes at it while Grunt laughs uproariously. She reaches for it under the guise of checking if it interfered with her amp-port and touching the soft, soft skin at her neck a bit longer than necessary. Shepard doesn’t seem to notice, but Miranda catches Jack staring at her, mouth tight and dark eyes glaring.

The rest of the crew is less hostile, but not by much. It’s clear that there’s something going on between Shepard and her, but few make their opinions obvious. It’s a given that nearly no one on the Normandy trusts her, what with her being a high-ranking Cerberus agent and loyal to the Illusive Man just months ago. There’s only a few of them left, but she still catches a number of the crew giving her shifty glances, which is understandable. Tali is as frosty as ever, perhaps even more so. Jack seems to just barely restrain herself every time they see each other, likely having been asked to refrain from attacking Miranda by Shepard, which is appreciated. Everyone else is mostly uncomfortable, especially now that the commander has started giving her quick pecks on the cheek before she goes off on another mission. Miranda hadn’t cared, had actually quite liked it at first. However, Shepard doesn’t seem to know how to read the room and isn’t aware that kissing her in front of everyone and EDI might unnerve some people.

Miranda firmly ignores it. She’s worked hard to get to this place with Shepard, she’s not going to complain. Then again, it’d be easier if Tali didn’t glare at her from behind her mask and Kasumi didn’t openly laugh at her embarrassment. Still, she doesn’t mind. It doesn’t bother her. She can manage it.

 

* * *

 

“ _…a Batarian outpost on Aratoht. I’ll upload the coordinates now._ ”

“Any idea how many hostiles?”

“ _A fair number. My apologies for asking this of you_.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make this a priority.” Miranda starts to stir once the words she’s hearing register in her sleepy mind. She rolls onto her back, rubbing at her eyes before squinting at the sparse patch of light coming from the other side of the room. She sees Shepard facing the monitor in front of her, along with the faint image of a man she soon recognizes as Admiral Hackett on the screen.

“ _Once she’s secure, confirm her discovery_ ,” he says, sounding as rough and serious as he does in the vids. “ _We’ll debrief you when you’re back._ ”

Shepard is quick to salute. “Yes, sir.”

“ _You’re not Alliance anymore, Shepard. No need for that._ ” Miranda sees Shepard’s lips quirk in a smile as she lowers her arm with a shrug. “ _Good luck. Hackett out._ ” The screen and room go dark again. Another, more faint light comes up, illuminating Shepard’s face as she quietly types on her console, sitting on her chair with a look of concentration. Miranda slides out of bed and walks over, combing back her tangled hair with her hands.

Shepard looks up at her approach and smiles. “Hey, you’re up.” Miranda hums and goes behind the chair to wrap her arms around her shoulders. She rests her chin on top of her head and reads the screen.

“You’re going to Aratoht?” she asks, looking over the specifics of the mission.

“Search and rescue mission,” Shepard replies, going back to work with Miranda still draped over her. “This Amanda Kenson person’s been arrested by Batarians and I have to get her out.”

“What for?”

“She says she’s found proof of a Reaper invasion.”

“Sounds important. Strange of the Admiral to ask all of a sudden.” As far as Miranda knows, he hasn’t tried to contact Shepard at all since she woke up. Someone as high up the Alliance military chain of command as Admiral Hackett must really be desperate to be asking this of a disgraced commander.

“A little, but I’m not worried. He’s usually pretty on the level.”

“Who are you taking with you?”

“I’m going in alone.” Miranda draws back to argue, but Shepard beats her to it, looking up at her as she says, “I know, but he specifically asked me to. I don’t know why I can’t have backup, but I trust him.”

Miranda sighs, still not convinced, but sure she won’t get anywhere if she presses. “Will you be alright?”

“Sure. It doesn’t sound too hard. I’ll just run in, grab the doctor, and run out.”

“Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will. Now, back to bed.” Shepard stands and takes Miranda’s hand to pull her along. Miranda laughs, but doesn’t move.

“I should go back to my room,” she says, still resisting Shepard’s tugging.

“But your office is so far away and my bed is right here.”

“True, but I should go back while most of the ship is still asleep.”

Shepard snorts. “Right, mustn’t scandalize the crew. What will they _say_?”

“I’m serious.”

“Since when do you care what they think about you?” Shepard asks, stepping close to her now, her hand still closed around Miranda’s.

“I don’t. I care what they think about _us_.” Shepard tilts her head in confusion. “No one trusts me.”

“That’s not true.”

“No one thinks we should be doing what we’re doing and they all expect me to have a gun to your back at any moment.” Miranda says it all in a rush, the words coming out of her after having been held back for so long, because she _does_ mind and it _does_ bother her when they look at her with suspicion or when their judgement keeps her from touching or even looking at Shepard the way she wants to.

Shepard looks at her with eyes full of understanding, her thumb moving comfortingly against Miranda’s hand. It helps her continue with a steadier voice, “I don’t blame them. You’re their golden commander, their hero, and I used to be the Illusive Man’s top operative. It’s not easy to get used to.”

“Miranda.”

“It’s bad enough that they see you kiss me, I don’t want them panicking if I walk out of your quarters in the morning.”

“Do you want me to stop kissing you?”

“No,” Miranda admits, looking down at their joined hands. “Maybe just in front of them.”

Shepard sighs and pulls her in close. Miranda goes readily and presses her cheek against Shepard’s chest as Shepard wraps her arms around her shoulders, holding her snugly. Miranda’s arms go around her waist loosely, still not entirely used to hugging, but willing to learn.

“I get that,” Shepard says softly, her breath rustling Miranda’s hair where she rests her chin on her head. “I’ll try to be less obvious. This is still new. We can ease into it.”

Miranda relaxes and hugs her tighter. “Thank you.”

“I doubt anyone’s taking it as badly as you think, though.”

“Really.”

“Really. Tali was shocked when I told her, but she got over it. Mostly. She might be keeping a closer eye on you than usual.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“She’s a good kid.” Shepard pulls away to look at her, her hands rubbing at her shoulders. “If anyone’s making you uncomfortable, Miranda, you can tell me.”

Miranda smiles. “What, so you can scold them?”

“I was planning on spacing them, but, sure, I can scold.” Miranda laughs and lets Shepard pull her to the bed. They lie down beside each other under the covers, Shepard’s arm under Miranda’s head and her hand lightly stroking her hair, relaxing her enough to want to sleep again. Miranda places her own hand on Shepard’s face, brushing back errant hair and smoothing out an eyebrow. Shepard smiles softly, her eyes closed and her breathing even.

“Kasumi supports us,” she whispers. “Probably too much.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Mmm. Joker doesn’t know how to take it.”

“I’m sure EDI is walking him through it.”

“You’d be right.”

“Jack hasn’t been trying to break my neck lately. I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

“Nope.” Shepard opens her eyes and beams. “She decided that all on her own. Told me so a few weeks back. She was really aggressive about doing something nice for me.”

“Oh?”

“She punched me in the gut. It hurt.”

“You’ll survive.”

“It hurt a _lot_.”

“Walk it off.” Miranda joins her in quiet laughter. Her eyes slide shut and she feels herself start to drift, feeling warm and comfortable enough to sleep for another two hours at least. She’s brought back to consciousness at Shepard’s soft voice.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“C’mere.” Miranda opens her eyes and just looks at her, uncomprehending, until Shepard gently grasps the back of her head and pulls her in part of the way. Miranda closes the distance with little thought and tilts her chin up to meet her lips. They’ve only started doing this recently, each one as careful as the last and nothing like the heated encounter they had before the Collector base, but Miranda treasures them all regardless. She cups the side of Shepard’s face with a hand and moves in closer when Shepard hooks her arm around her neck more firmly. They kiss lightly, quietly, and neither move to take it any further.

They separate with a soft sound after a short time and meet each other’s eye with mirrored smiles. Shepard presses her lips to her forehead with a murmured, “Go to sleep.” Miranda turns her back to her and settles comfortably, feeling Shepard’s warm chest just behind her. Shepard adjusts herself and relaxes, letting out a quiet breath and going still.

Miranda knew when they wheeled that charred, broken body into the operating room that this assignment was going to take everything she had. She doesn’t know what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t this kind, enormous woman who’d forgiven her and welcomed her despite everything she’s done. No amount of interviews she’d watched for research could ever prepare her for the rushing, pulsing, tugging feeling Shepard brings out of her. She doesn’t know what to call it, is still a little afraid to give it a name, but she won’t smother it anymore. Not now when it’s finally starting to breathe.

“Stop thinking,” Lo mumbles in her ear. “Sleep.”

Contented and overwhelmed, Miranda sleeps.

 

* * *

 

_“The relay was hit by an asteroid, destroying it and causing a massive—”_

_“—no word from the Galactic Council on whether this was some kind of freak accident, or a planned attack.”_

_“Reports are coming in and the death toll is only climbing—”_

_“—up to three hundred thousand dead and the number just keeps rising. What did—”_

_“—has been ruled a genocide, one the likes of which hasn’t been witnessed in—”_

_“Aratoht has gone dark. Repeat: Aratoht has gone dark.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops almost gave y'all a happy ending there can't have that :p i kid it's still happy it's just not an _ending_ per se......there's still me3 ♪~ ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
> 
> well that's it for this story! except for one more chapter that's coming up soon of which the details i will not discuss uwu don't worry it'll be great
> 
> thank you for reading! and thank you again for getting through this overly-long fic and giving the femslash community the attention it deserves. well, the good parts of it anyway lmao. thanks!!!


	16. Kindness and Quiet (BONUS CHAPTER)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the end!! this is essentially a filler episode of sorts that takes place some time between the suicide mission and the arrival dlc. it's a gooey cutesy happy fun time reward for all those who made it through this slow burning emotional rollercoaster of a fic. thank you all so much for the comments, the bookmarks, and the kudos! even if you only popped in here and decided it wasn't your thing, i appreciate the bump to my hit count! this fic took nearly a year to get through and is my first completely finished multichapter work in my over a decade of fic-writing (quizilla was wild)
> 
> i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. thank you very very much!
> 
> [pictured: Miranda Lawson and Lo Shepard sitting together and smiling up at the viewer. The words 'thank you!' are written above them in all caps]
> 
> itsnobbie.tumblr.com
> 
>  
> 
>  

“Not that this isn’t nice, but…” Shepard begins, sitting casually on the bench while scanning the surrounding area from behind her glasses. “What exactly are we doing here?”

Miranda looks up from fiddling with her omni-tool. “We’re waiting.”

“Okay. For what?”

“Never mind that, just relax. Take in the sights.” She vaguely gestures at the clean pathway and field of newly mowed grass in front of them. “Enjoy the fresh air. We don’t get it much in space.”

“Oh, fine,” Shepard mumbles. Her eyes now move to Miranda and give her a once-over while her lips curve into a grin. “Have a mentioned how nice you look today?”

Miranda rolls her eyes. “About a dozen times.”

“Well, you do.”

“And again, thank you. You look nice, too.” Miranda eyeballs Shepard right back and once again notes how well her clothes fit. From the soft leather jacket to the jeans that make her long legs look even longer, she’s the most put together Miranda has ever seen her. It’s the first time she’s ever worn casual clothes that aren’t mismatched and borrowed from the Normandy crew, and it’s really working for her. Shepard notices her stare and her smile widens. She spreads her legs out and leans back against the bench, elongating her body and giving her a good look.

“See something you like?” she asks, a voice hitting a teasing note even as it goes low and inviting. Miranda smirks and boldly reaches forward instead of answering, hand going to the collar of her jacket and just barely grazing her sharp jawline. Shepard quietly watches as she adjusts the collar and then moves her hand up to brush a lock of hair that escaped Shepard’s high ponytail behind her ear. She keeps her hand on Shepard’s cheek for a moment, neither of them moving. Miranda leans in, just a little, just enough to whisper over the sound of the wind rustling the trees.

“Not really.” She pulls back, bringing her omni-tool out and getting back to it. The sound of Shepard’s surprised laughter breaks her façade and she smiles down at her arm. “You should bring your legs back. Those kids could trip.”

“You’re the worst,” Shepard grumbles, sitting normally again just as another pack of tiny children race past them, yelling and laughing as they do. Miranda wishes today wasn’t so chaotic, but there’d been no way around it. Hopefully it’ll all work out for the best. She tries to focus on that rather than remembering the warmth of Shepard’s skin against her palm.

They’ve been touching more lately. It’s been small and infrequent, but each pat and graze has been a symbol for this thing that’s growing between them. Miranda has been noticing it become more and more apparent the longer they’re near each other, and while she’s still working to gain Shepard’s trust again, it doesn’t keep her from taking what she can. She even has a little fun with it, like just now. There’s no anger in Shepard’s griping, and the smirk she’s trying to hide right now is proof of the game they’re both playing. It’s silly and doesn’t make anything deeper, but Miranda thinks it’s bringing them closer. At the very least, it’s keeping this whole process from getting too serious. Miranda wouldn’t be able to take the pressure otherwise.

At least, she thinks she wouldn’t. She doesn’t really know, hasn’t let herself think about it for too long. She’s fine with what they have now, though, completely satisfied. It’s definitely better than nothing.

“Why are we all dressed up anyway?” Shepard asks, her leg bouncing and making the bench shake under them. “And in some random park on some random colony? Shouldn’t we be laying low?”

Miranda looks up. “I doubt those kids on the swings have any connections to Cerberus.”

“Haha. Seriously.”

“Just _relax_ ,” Miranda repeats, placing a hand on Shepard’s knee to still it, “and wait a little bit longer. It’ll all be cleared up soon, I promise.” Shepard frowns and goes silent, eyes still darting around the park. The glasses she’s wearing make them look darker, bigger, and altering her face considerably. That, along with the longer hair and lack of Alliance gear should be able to keep her from being recognized in this crowd. Miranda’s own glasses are simpler, but _she_ isn’t a galaxy-wide celebrity who’s gotten even more attention ever since people started spotting her all over the Milky Way, wearing Cerberus armor and very much not dead. There’s already a million different theories on the extranet, a fair amount of them getting very near the truth while the rest discuss Hanar resurrection rituals.

Regardless of how off-base the public seems to be, Shepard has everyone’s eyes back on her for the first time in two years and she’s been staying on the Normandy for that reason. Aside from the odd mission, she hasn’t left the ship and refuses to step foot on the Citadel the few times they’re there – in her words, that’s ‘just asking for trouble’. It isn’t too hard to understand her unease now as she avoids eye-contact with everyone and keeps her face angled downward. Perhaps she should’ve worn her hair down, just to hide those cheekbones Miranda’s sure other people will notice. She can’t be the only one.

Miranda’s omni-tool pings and she pulls it out to see a message. Her heart leaps into her throat as she reads it:

**[OR:] just got off the shuttle! where are you???**

Miranda smiles down at the screen and types a reply:

**[ML:] On a bench in the park, near the trees.**

**[OR:] on my way!!!**

Miranda looks around for moment until she finally sees her, standing a ways away from them with her head whipping around in search as well. Miranda stands and waves, catching her attention after a few tries. Despite the distance, Miranda can see her face light up just before she breaks into a run. She bounds over, looking completely gorgeous in a cardigan and t-shirt over jeans, but that isn’t surprising. What’s more unusual is the wide smile stretching her face, which is beautiful, of course, but baffling. Miranda feels undeserving of such excitement, but she accepts it anyway, even mirrors it with a smile of her own. Shepard stands as well, letting out a quiet laugh as she gets closer.

“Randa!” Oriana pants out as she makes it to them, smile still set on her round face. Miranda doesn’t really know what she looked like at nineteen, but she finds it hard to believe that she was ever this _cute_. She brings her arms out as Oriana reaches for her and they meet at the elbows, at arm’s reach but close enough to see that they’re about the same height, which is a pleasant surprise. Oriana’s grinning from ear to ear and seems to be documenting Miranda just as thoroughly, her big eyes moving all over and settling on her face.

“How are you?” she asks, hands squeezing at Miranda’s arms just a little. “I’m so happy to see you again, finally! I was so excited, I barely slept last night, thank you so much for this!”

Miranda smiles and feels warm all over. “I’m fine, and it’s no problem. I’m happy to see you, too.”

Oriana giggles and hops a little before gasping and pulling back to look at her outfit. “Oh my god, you look beautiful! I love your jacket! Oh, hey, we’re wearing the same color!” She points at her own maroon cardigan that closely matches Miranda’s coat. “That’s so cool! Isn’t that cool?”

“I guess we have the same good taste.” Oriana laughs and Miranda is struck by how lucky she is to have this, to have such a great kid as a little sister. She can hardly believe she almost kept herself from having this relationship with her. She quietly thanks Shepard for pushing her into making contact, because she knows doing it out loud again will just make the commander uncomfortable. As if she’d heard Miranda’s thoughts, Oriana’s eyes move toward Shepard and her jaw drops.

“Oh my god,” she breathes. “That’s not…is that—”

Miranda places a hand on her shoulder and turns to make the introductions. “Ori, you know Commander Shepard. Shepard, my sister, Oriana.”

Shepard is all smiles. “Hey, Oriana. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Oriana keeps on gaping at her, her eyes wide and blinking rapidly. Shepard seems to take pity on her and says, “I know, but try to calm down. We can’t draw attention.” That seems to snap her out of it and she gives her head a hard shake, her short hair swinging wildly.

“Right, right, okay, I know. I’m being such a loser, it’s not like I’ve been talking to you on the extranet for months, right? _God_ , Canton, get it together.” She closes her eyes takes several deep breaths. When she opens them again, she’s much more composed.

“Hi, Lo!” she whispers gleefully before rushing forward and wrapping her arms around Shepard’s waist in a tight hug. Miranda huffs out a laugh and can’t even be embarrassed for her, the kid’s so happy. Sometimes she forgets how young her sister is until she acts like a complete teenager, all star-struck and giddy. It’s adorable and it only gets cuter when Shepard laughs and hugs her back.

“Woah, that’s a good grip. Loosen up a bit, I need my organs for later.” Oriana giggles and pulls back just a little. “Look at you! You’ve grown up a little bit since I last saw you, huh? Got all tall and pretty.”

“Oh, stop it,” Oriana says, giggling some more and actually blushing under her brown skin. “C’mon, I look the same.”

“Really? You were always this cute?” Shepard laughs when Oriana covers her flushing face. Miranda places her hands on her hips disapprovingly, though her smile ruins the effect.

“Shepard, please control yourself,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re going to make her little head explode.”

“But she’s making it so easy, look.” Shepard points at Oriana and Miranda can see her sister smiling hugely from behind her fingers. Shepard laughs some more and Oriana goes to Miranda’s side, taking her hand and looking pink and stunned, but beaming.

“Oh my god, Randa,” she says, her voice hushed and excited. “It was already good enough that you came to see me, but you even brought Lo! Thank you, thank you, this is the best birthday ever!”

“I’m glad.” Miranda smiles back at her and her head swims in a wave of happiness, making her almost dizzy with it. She feels like she’s floating even as she reaches up to fix Oriana’s hair where it got tousled in her excitement. Her voice is miraculously steady when she says, “Well, we’ve got a whole day ahead of us, so why don’t we get started?”

“Right! Oh, but, first I’m gonna use the bathroom. Be right back!” She squeezes Miranda’s hand again and gives Shepard one more quick hug before running off. Once she’s gone, Miranda tries to collect herself, knowing she’ll have plenty of time to drown in her joy later.

“It’s her birthday?” Shepard asks, moving to stand next to her.

“It’s the one they gave her when she was adopted. I don’t actually know the real day, so it’ll do.”

“Miranda.”

“What?”

“Did you bring me here as a present for your sister?” Miranda looks at Shepard and finds her peering back at her, looking much too delighted.

Miranda crosses her arms over her chest and shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Aww. That’s so weird.”

“Oh, be quiet. You were a last-minute decision. I was just going to come by myself—”

“And then you chickened out?” Shepard laughs at her scowl. “You could’ve just told me. I’d have come even without the deception.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s cool. Are her parents okay with this?”

“She said they’d be busy. Apparently, they’re usually swamped with work this time of year and she spends her birthday with friends.”

“And where are her friends?”

“Most of them are on vacation. So, she’d been planning to just be at home all day.” Miranda frowns, getting furious just saying those words. It isn’t that she’s angry at her parents or her friends. It’s more that she’s mad at the entire situation and at the very _idea_ of her little sister sitting around by herself on a day as important as this. She’d stared so long at the words when Oriana had told her in their chat sessions that Oriana thought she’d logged off.

Obviously, this could not stand. She immediately planned this day out, finding this safe colony to meet Oriana in and then getting Shepard to come along. Not that it took much – she’d only said she needed her for something important and that was, apparently, all Shepard needed to hear. The only time she’d started to look suspicious is when Miranda had asked Kasumi to dress her in some casual, but classy wear. Kasumi asked no questions, only jumped at the opportunity to choose Shepard’s wardrobe.

“So, her parents don’t know?” Shepard asks, looking dubious.

Miranda sighs. “Apparently not. I told Oriana to ask their permission, but she just ignored me.”

“Couldn’t you have told them yourself?”

“I wanted to, but she insisted we keep it a secret. As far as they know, she’s spending time with her friends. And her friends think she’s with her family.” Miranda crosses her arms, disapproval clear on her face. “I don’t like it, but I’m trusting that she has her reasons.”

“And now we’re spending an unsanctioned day of fun with her.”

“That’s right.”

“Aw, Miranda,” Shepard says now, placing a hand over her heart. “That’s so sweet.”

Miranda looks away. “Alright.”

“I could cry. Seriously, I’m tearing up.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And _you’re_ too easily embarrassed. That’s not a good trait for a big sister, you need to work on that.” Miranda rolls her eyes again and Shepard puts an arm around her shoulder. “This is really cool. I’m glad you brought me.”

Miranda relaxes against her with a sigh. Shepard’s thumb starts to rub soothing circles on her arm and she melts. This isn’t anything new, but she still relishes the contact like a woman starving. Eventually, Shepard lets her go, and she feels a little dejected, but it passes when she spots Oriana running back to them. They’re off to Miranda’s scheduled activity in no time, Oriana and Lo already gabbing while Miranda watches them with a smile, delighting in their chatter.

She spots something in the corner of her eye and looks to see someone sitting on a bench nearby. Nothing too odd about that. Even if they do look a little too muscular and surly to be sitting in a park with a book. She thinks nothing of it and when Oriana links an arm around hers while she laughs at something Shepard says, it leaves her mind entirely.

 

* * *

 

“…and _then_ I planned it out so badly that I had to do three presentations in one day.”

“Good lord. What did you do?”

“Used the same one for all three classes. You’d be surprised how easily one could connect colony produce with the rise of illegal varren fights.” Oriana laughs along with Shepard while Miranda watches on, likely sporting an embarrassing grin, but not caring too much about it.

“So, what’ve you two been up to?” Oriana asks, walking backwards ahead of them with her hands tucked behind her and her face a picture of innocent curiosity. “Anything fun?”

Shepard and Miranda exchange amused glances before Miranda answers, “Nothing in particular.”

“Oh, come on!” Oriana drops the act with an exasperated roll of her eyes. “The ‘big mission’ is over, right? Can’t you talk about it now?”

“Trust us, kiddo, it’s more boring than you think,” Shepard says. “Nothing you haven’t seen in a vid.”

“Except it’s _not_ a vid and I actually know the people involved. Plus,” she lowers her voice, “it’s a _Commander Shepard_ story. Those are always great.”

“Always?” Miranda says, unconvinced.

Shepard winces with a shrug. “She’s not wrong. I get into some weird shit.”

“Regardless, it isn’t anything you should be hearing about,” Miranda says to Oriana, stern despite her sister’s pouting. “All you need to know is that we succeeded and we’re fine.”

Oriana groans, starting to face front again and talking over her shoulder, “I’m not a _child_ , Randa. I can--oh!”

She gasps, her eyes widening as she takes in the sight in front of her – a large, multicolor archway leading into a vast field filled up with vibrant lights and colors. Stalls and rides line the space with a crowd of people stepping in and out of them, some laughing and others looking sick. This doesn’t quell Oriana’s excitement as she whirls around, another huge smile spreading her cheeks wide.

“It’s a carnival!” she gasps out. “Let’s go! Can we go? Please, we have to go!”

Miranda nods. “It’s why I picked this colony. Let’s go.” Oriana claps in glee and grabs her hand before rushing ahead, pulling Miranda along with her. Miranda laughs, letting herself be tugged around with Shepard striding to keep up with them, looking around in surprise.

“A carnival?” she says, sounding impressed. “I haven’t gone to one of these in years.”

“I’ve never been,” Miranda admits. “Are there usually this many people?”

“Looks like a slow day, from my experience.” Shepard laughs at her incredulous look. “Don’t worry. Oriana and I will protect you.”

“Let’s go on that one first!” Oriana says, pointing at the huge, Turian-themed roller coaster with what looks like actual flame shooting out of the peak of the tracks. Miranda can see the people on the cars raising their hands as they go down in a nearly ninety-degree angle, their faint screams audible from where she stands on the ground. Oriana stares up at the monstrosity, excitement lighting up her big eyes. Miranda turns to Shepard, distressed, and finds her looking up at the ride with a similar unease.

“Maybe _I’ll_ just protect you,” she says, smiling weakly. “Let’s just get this over with. Don’t worry, rides like these are usually quick.”

It’s not quick. The line is ridiculous and then a fussy Asari carnival worker tries to make them relinquish their glasses before Shepard charms them into letting it slide. The ride itself isn’t too bad, but Miranda fails to see the fun in being strapped into a box and shot through the air too fast to see anything. The view is nice at the top of the tracks, but she could live without the unpleasant feeling in her stomach when their car drops. Miranda glances at Shepard and finds her looking pinched, her eyes closed despite her glasses keeping the wind from blinding her. The whole thing would’ve been a waste of time were it not for Oriana’s screams mingled with high-pitched laughing ringing out beside her, her arms up and her face open in delight.  

“That was awesome!” she says when they walk through the ride’s exit, her hair in disarray, but her smile thrilled. “Did you like it, Miranda?”

“Sure,” she says, shrugging. “It wasn’t as bad as I expected. A little noisy, though.”

“Yeah…” Shepard says haltingly, looking exhausted with her own hair mussed and her glasses askew. “I just remembered why I stopped going to these things.”

They walk around the carnival some more with Shepard and Miranda subtly steering Oriana away from the other large rides. They come across a line of game stalls with several kids crowding in front of one of them, their whines audible as they get closer.

“C’mon, let us try again!”

“Sorry, kid, you’re out of credits,” the Salarian worker says, shaking their head.

One of the kids, an Asari, stomps their foot. “This game is rigged! It’s way too hard!”

The Salarian snorts. “Yeah, yeah, that’s what everybody says. Come back when you’ve got money to spend.”

Oriana stops in front of the game and turns to Miranda. “You two wanna give it a try?”

Miranda eyes the stall – it’s a basic game of skill involving virtual geth that attack from all sides of the large screen positioned at the back of the stall. She assumes that players use those overly realistic plastic guns sitting on the counter to fight them off.

“I’m not sure it’s worth it,” Miranda says, frowning at the sneering worker. “The game is likely a scam.”

“You think?” Shepard peers at it as well, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Now I wanna play even more.”

“Between the two of you, we can probably get the biggest prize!” Oriana points at the enormous Krogan plush toy sitting on the top shelf.

Shepard lets out a mock-affronted noise. “What happened to the Shepard toys? Have I become irrelevant already?”

“Probably stopped after the whole Cerberus thing,” Oriana whispers wryly.

“Is that all? People can be so sensitive. Well, then.” Shepard makes a big show of stretching her neck and rotating her shoulder. “If we’re trying to get the prize, I’d better get to it.”

“What? Why _you?_ ” Miranda asks.

“Who else? You’ve seen my shot.”

“Yes, and it’s very impressive, but not exactly top-tier.” Miranda smirks at Shepard’s raised eyebrows.

“Miranda, I’m Alliance-trained from birth,” she says in a tone that suggests she’s trying to let Miranda down easy. “I’ve got pinpoint accuracy in my _blood_.”

“Well, I’m genetically built to be the best of the best, so I think that trumps your soldier blood,” Miranda says easily, hands on her hips and head cocked in a challenge that Shepard picks up quickly, her eyes going sharp. After nearly seven seconds of sizing each other up, the two of them step to the stall in unison and grab a toy gun, all to Oriana’s glee. She cheers them on as they pay the worker and the game begins.

They go through level after level, taking out about as many simulated geth than they have real ones. Miranda doesn’t falter, eyes on her side of the screen and shooting down every hostile as it appears, even some that haven’t completely spawned yet. She briefly glances to Shepard’s side whenever she can and finds their scores tied. Every new level brings an increased number of enemies with upgrades that Miranda is quite sure was made up to make the game more difficult. Regardless, she kills the rampaging ‘Mega Geth’ with ease, despite its head turning into a missile. Shepard makes it through just as cleanly, though she opts to shoot the missile before it leaves its owner, making the whole thing explode and bringing out a chorus of cheers from the kids watching around them.

Miranda hadn’t noticed how they’d starting crowding them, but there they are, tiny and captivated as she and Shepard mow their way through the game and earn points that start to make the worker fidget. They really shouldn’t be drawing this much attention, but she can worry about that later. Right now, she has three strange, reptilian geth coming at her that need a clean shot to the head.

“Hey, do you know them?” She hears a kid ask.

“Oh, that’s my sister,” Oriana replies and Miranda can hear the smile in her voice.

“Which one?” another one pipes up. Oriana seems to hesitate and Miranda wants to look back, but another horde of geth has spawned and she’s got her hands full. Thankfully, Oriana answers.

“Both, I guess,” she says, easily as anything. Miranda is distracted enough by that statement to miss her target and get hit by a stray shot, making her lose health points for the first time.

“Better stay on your toes,” Shepard crows as she makes quick work of her own enemies. It doesn’t look like she’d heard what Oriana said, all her focus on winning the game.

Miranda scoffs. “You got lucky.”

“Or you’re getting sloppy.” Miranda takes the opportunity to quickly shove Shepard’s arm, ruining her aim and getting her hit, too. The kids laugh from behind them as Shepard cries, “Hey! Foul!”

“Stay on your toes,” Miranda says, smiling despite her points dropping due to her momentary interruption and horseplay. She can hear Oriana whooping and rooting for them both and her smile only gets bigger, as does the swelling in her chest. It makes her play with a renewed vigor and she clears level after level, Shepard neck and neck with her until—

“Congratulations!” the Salarian worker cries in forced glee. “You win the grand prize!” They bring the giant Krogan toy down with a pulley and hand it over to Miranda.

“You get the secondary prize,” the worker says to Shepard as they line up several different, smaller plush toys on the counter for her to take, though she looks less than enthused as she scowls at Miranda’s smug look.

“The sun was in my eyes,” she says, haphazardly cradling the toys in her arms. Miranda nods in mock-understanding and laughs at Shepard’s frown. The two of them present the toys to Oriana, and she in turn gives them away to the children surrounding them. The kids thank her and gush at the two of them before they dash off, mimicking their stances and play-shooting each other in a way that will likely alarm their guardians.

“You two were amazing!” Oriana says, hugging the grand prize she’d decided to keep. “I knew Lo would be great, because it’s _her_ , but, _wow_ , Randa! You really blew her out of the water!”

“I wouldn’t say _that_ ,” Shepard says crabbily.

“I would. Because it’s true.” Oriana squeals when Shepard pinches at her cheeks, grumbling about ‘mouthy teenagers’ as she does. Miranda shakes her head at the silly display and moves to break them up when she feels someone staring at her.

She glances up and sees them, catching their eye for a second before they turn away and talk into their phone. They don’t look at her again, and it isn’t out of the ordinary, but she can’t help but notice that this person is the same kind of physically intimidating as the last one. Their jacket fits bulkily over them, like it’s padded, and their stance looks too rigid to be casual.

“Randa?” She turns to Oriana, who’s looking at her curiously despite getting her face squeezed by an equally questioning Shepard. “Everything okay?” Miranda looks back at the suspicious person to find them gone. She scans the area with her eyes for a moment, but they’ve disappeared in the throng.

“Everything’s fine,” she says to Oriana, smiling in assurance. “Anyone hungry?”

Oriana and Shepard take the lead with Miranda watching their backs and keeping an eye out. She can’t be sure if they’ll be having some trouble, but she would do well to trust that uneasy feeling that’s gotten her out of a lot of tough situations. She tries to stay relaxed so as not to worry her sister on her birthday, and briefly listens to their discussion on Oriana’s latest crush.

“What happened with that Daniel kid?” Shepard asks.

“Danner? Blegh, that’s over with,” Oriana says dismissively.

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“He’s old news, but, there’s this girl named Gihan and oh my god.”

“How cute is she?”

“Disgustingly cute, it makes me so mad.”

“You got it bad, girl!” Shepard laughs as Oriana shoves at her arm in embarrassment. “You and your sister are both so awkward.”

“I resent that,” Miranda says mildly.

Shepard turns to wink at her. “Of course I mean that in the best way.”

“Of course.”

They finally find the food area, a cordoned off space full of stalls specifically for buying hot meals and snacks. It’s packed, of course, with huge lines in front of each stall and new picnic benches automatically springing out of the ground as more and more families sit to eat.

Oriana turns to Shepard. “Loser has to go wait in line.”

Shepard balks. “ _What?_ Since when?”

“Since it’s my birthday and I make the rules. Randa and I will secure a place to sit. Get going.” She grins while Shepard gives up and shuffles off, muttering all the way. Miranda chuckles at her sister’s fiendish schemes as they go in search of seating.

“It’s a really nice day, huh?” Oriana says, looking up at the clear blue sky that’s likely just a projected image with atmospheric systems stabilizing the weather.

“It is,” Miranda says anyway, not seeing the need to get overly technical. “Are you having fun?”

“Are you kidding?” Oriana whirls to look at her in disbelief. “This is so great! I can hardly believe it’s happening!”

She stops walking and takes Miranda’s hand, looking shy. “I know it’s early to say this, but…thank you.” She smiles softly. “I’m really lucky to have you as a sister. I mean it.” Miranda squeezes her hand and nods tightly, blinking back the sudden wetness in her eyes. Oriana seems to understand and giggles before walking on, her stand still wrapped around Miranda’s.

Once they find a good place to sit, Miranda’s mostly pulled herself together and Oriana plops herself down across from her with an eager expression that doesn’t bode well.

“So, Lo’s really nice,” she says almost too casually. “I mean, I knew that from her messages, but I wasn’t sure. What with the whole _celebrity_ thing.”

“She’s very nice,” Miranda says. “Though I worry that the two of you get along too well.”

“Aw, we hardly ever talk about you anymore. Only nice things!” she adds when Miranda scowls. “She hides all the important stuff from me just like you do, don’t worry.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“So, what’s she like as a girlfriend?”

Miranda blinks. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah. I bet she’s the type to, like, open jars and carry boxes. Super butch stuff. But I guess you’re probably strong enough to do that yourself.” Oriana crooks a finger under her chin in thought. “Maybe she just reaches the top shelf for you? Oh, oh, do you wear her jacket sometimes? It must be so big!” she says excitedly before noticing Miranda’s blank stare.

“Uh, Randa? You okay?” she asks warily. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, it’s just…” Miranda shakes her head. “That’s not really what we’re doing.”

“What you’re doing?” Miranda shrugs and she gapes. “Wait, you’re not together?”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“We’ve just never talked about it.”

“ _Never?_ ” Oriana nearly yells. “What do you mean, never? Wouldn’t something like that come up?”

“You’d think so, but…” Miranda looks down, feeling drained. “It’s not important. Things are fine like this.”

“What do you mean they’re _fine_?”

“I mean they’re fine, Ori. It’s something.”

“It can’t be something more?”

“I don’t think it should.”

“Why the hell not? Wait, wait.” Oriana raises her hands and places them on the table like she’s trying to figure this out. “You clearly like each other. Am I right about that, at least?”

“Well, _I_ , do.”

“Doesn’t Lo like you back?”

“Well,” Miranda begins before finishing quietly, “I don’t know.” Her heart sinks to her stomach. She’s never thought about it, never considered it important until now. She’s made her feelings clear, or as clear as she’s able, and Shepard hasn’t exactly _rejected_ them. Has she?

Shit. She should’ve seen this coming. She should’ve considered the possibility of Shepard not wanting what she wants. Of course, Shepard is _attracted_ to her, you’d be hard-pressed to find someone who isn’t, but that might be where it ends. They flirt, but it goes no further. She’s willing to touch her, but not be with her, not the same way Miranda wants. _Shit_.

“Randa?” Oriana’s soft voice breaks her train of thought as does her hands closing around Miranda’s balled up fists on the table. “I’m sorry I brought it up, I wasn’t thinking. I never should’ve said anything.”

Miranda sighs. “It’s not your fault.”

“Still.” She looks nervous for a moment before saying, “You should talk to Lo about it.” Miranda scoffs lightly. “I’m serious. If it’s making you this upset, you should tell her.”

Miranda grimaces before sighing again, turning her hands to hold Oriana’s. “What a mature decision. Are you sure you’re nineteen?”

Oriana beams. “That’s what they tell me.”

Shepard eventually arrives at their table, arms full of bags. “Hey, sorry that took so long,” she says as she puts them down and takes a seat next to Miranda, her big thigh brushing against hers in a way that’s probably casual, but Miranda doesn’t move away.

“Were the lines that bad?” she asks as Oriana paws through the bags.

“Not really. I got a little held up.”

“Did someone recognize you?”

“No, just had to make a quick stop.” She produces a cupcake out of the smallest bag, popping a candle into it and lighting it with a flourish to Oriana’s astonishment. “Happy birthday! They didn’t have actual cake, but I paid extra for the prettiest frosting.”

“Oh my god, Lo!” Oriana gushes, eyes sparkling in the light of the candle’s fire and twice as bright. “This is so sweet, thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome. Now, make a wish.” Oriana nods and closes her eyes, thinking hard before she blows the candle out. Miranda and Shepard clap and her smile looks big enough to break her face apart. Once they pull out the food and start to eat, Oriana’s distracted enough for Miranda to nudge Shepard’s shoulder with her own. When Shepard glances at her, her sandwich halfway to her mouth, Miranda mouths _thank you_. Shepard accepts it with a smile and a nod, going back to her food happily. Miranda just looks at her for a little bit longer, a warmth filling her up and a single certainty sitting on the forefront of her mind:

She’s not satisfied with just ‘something’. Not anymore. She looks at Shepard, sees the kindness and quiet in everything she does and she just _wants._

She wants everything.

When they finish eating, they return to the carnival’s rides. Oriana compromises and chooses the less intense rides and then it’s one after another. Even Shepard starts to get used to the experience and Oriana doesn’t have to try very hard to talk her into getting on the Hanar-themed pendulum ride again. They come across something called ‘bumper cars’ with the vehicles floating about three feet in the air and riders crashing into each other on purpose. Seems juvenile, but Oriana has a blast. Miranda can’t seem to figure out the controls and Shepard can barely fit in her car, allowing Oriana to fly circles around them both. Miranda could probably work it out with some time, but she isn’t really focusing – not when her mind keeps wandering back to Shepard no matter how hard she tries.

Afterwards, Oriana drags them to what looks like a horror ride. It’s definitely unsettling and has plenty of jump scares and flashing lights, but the Rackni theme is obnoxious and, according to Shepard, highly inaccurate.

“Why were they wiggling around?” she asks later as they walk out of the ride. The sun has already started to set, making the shadow of the giant cardboard spider at the front look long and menacing. “Rackni don’t move like that.”

“Oh, and you would know?” Oriana says. “Besides, it’s not supposed to be right, it’s supposed to be scary.”

“It wasn’t even that. I’m surprised they didn’t incorporate the Krogan somehow.”

“I heard they used to, but their depictions were offensive. It was taken out after some protests.”

“It must’ve been really bad, then,” Miranda says as she brushes her hair back and spots two people over her shoulder – big people, one of them the same person from before. They’re both wearing thick jackets and they’re not directly looking at her, but she has a bad feeling. Once they pause to look in a stall at the same time Shepard stops to tie her shoes, she’s sure of it.

They’re being followed.

Miranda studies them quickly – it’s hard to tell if they’re armed, but she wouldn’t be surprised. Are they Cerberus? Most likely. She looks around and finds another two of the same build, their backs turned to her, but their position too close to be a coincidence.

Once Shepard straightens up, Miranda moves to her, her eyes asking a silent question. Shepard nods with a smile and murmurs, “I see them,” before turning to Oriana.

“Hey, kid, could you go get us some snacks?”

Oriana blinks. “By myself?”

“Yeah.” Shepard wraps an arm around Miranda’s shoulders and pulls her in close. “Give the grownups some alone time, huh? Go on.” Miranda hooks her own arm around Shepard’s waist and tries her best to look normal as Oriana looks between them with raised eyebrows.

“Okay, then,” she says slowly, even as she starts to smile. “Be right back.” She runs off, her sneakers crunching the grass as she goes. Once she’s out of sight, the two of them start to walk, unhurried as they leave the carnival and get away from the increasing number of people entering as the evening comes. Shepard is calm, and it makes it easier for Miranda to be, too, even with multiple footsteps and rustling getting louder behind them.

They stop at a clearing near a body of water, a dense forest on the other side of them, and quickly draw their pistols.

“Better make this quick,” Shepard says, pulling her glasses off and loading her gun.

“I count seven,” Miranda says, removing her own glasses and looking around as their targets start trickling in.

“I count eight. Unless that one guy’s just innocently creeping around in the trees.” Shepard’s eyes and shoulders start to glow blue and Miranda flares up with her, both their biotics bright in the dusk. “Speaking of which, let’s try to avoid fighting in there. Too crowded for me.”

“Do you want to take the left or right?”

“I think we both know I want the left,” Shepard says as the largest one appears in that direction, their huge gun drawn with the Cerberus logo visible on the barrel.

“Kill Lawson, but capture Shepard,” they bark in a gravelly voice. “The Illusive Man still wants her.” The others advance on them, weapons ready and even a few biotics getting ready to charge. Shepard only laughs.

 

* * *

 

“Well, that’s done,” Shepard says, brushing dirt off her shoulder.

“I’m surprised they only sent a bunch of grunts,” Miranda says as she looks at the large, but limp soldiers littering the ground. “And so few.”

“It’s more than last time. Mr. Illusive’s working his way up to the double digits.” Shepard crouches down and starts dragging the largest one out of sight. The sun has completely gone down and they’re covered by the evening as they hide the unconscious goons in the bushes.

Shepard groans. “Ugh, what do they feed these monsters? Can’t I just use my biotics a little? Nobody will see.”

“It’s too dark. _Everyone_ will see.” Miranda bends to help, lifting the soldier’s legs. They deposit the first one into some thick bushes with considerable effort. Shepard straightens up and moves to the rest of the fallen with a grin.

“One down, seven to go.” Miranda watches her walk, feeling dejected. The sparse light coming from the carnival makes everything seem more intimate, but she’s likely the only one thinking so. When they finish dragging another two, lighter, bodies, she can’t stand it any longer.

“Shepard, I need to talk to you about something,” she says, waiting by the bush once she’s dropped off one of the two biotics in the group.

Shepard pulls at the other one, this one slightly larger, and grunts, “Sure, go ahead.”

“Are we girlfriends?”

Shepard stills and looks up at her. She straightens and faces her properly, dropping the soldier as she does.

“What?” She looks surprised, baffled as she stares at her. Miranda doesn’t let it stop her and pushes on.

“Are we girlfriends? Together?” she asks. “Look, you know how I feel about you. I just want to know…what are we doing? Are we together? Or are we friends who flirt?” Shepard looks away and that’s not at all a good sign, but Miranda goes on, even though her chest feels broken open.

“Is this about trust?” she asks, not sure what it means when Shepard’s eyes come back to her. “Is it about you not being able to trust me? Because if that’s the case, I would understand. I just want you to talk to me.”

Shepard’s face grows soft and her shoulders lower. Miranda doesn’t know what that suggests and Shepard doesn’t elaborate, so she keeps going, keeps breaking open.

“Maybe it’s not fair of me to ask for more than we already have after everything, but…” Shepard looks at her, just looks as she talks through her feelings amongst unconscious assassins. “I don’t know if it’s more if I’m not sure what I’m working with.”

That’s it. She’s laid it all on the table. She hasn’t been this clear about her intentions since after the suicide mission, and she’s forgotten how terrifying it is. And how freeing. She’s done all she can and the rest is up to Shepard. The thought is both assuring and anxiety-inducing. She waits while stewing in this maddening emotional state that only Shepard seems to bring out of her, only to watch her let out a big sigh.

“Shit,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck. “This is my fault.”

“What?”

“I’m not—I’ve never been good at this stuff. I mean, I’m better than I was, but that’s not saying much.” Shepard looks disappointed in herself for a moment before giving Miranda a guilty look. “I’m really sorry.”

That isn’t what Miranda wants to hear, but it’s a start. She resolves to wait until Shepard gets it all out before formulating any kind of response, but the commander seems to just be talking to herself now.

“I thought I was being obvious,” she murmurs, looking at the ground in deep thought. “Isn’t it good to show, rather than tell? Maybe not always.” She hums. “I guess actions aren’t as loud as words in some cases. Okay.”

Shepard nods in some kind of resolve and steps up to Miranda. Once she’s directly in front of her, she places her hands on her shoulders and looks her square in the eye.

“I’m gonna make this very, very clear,” she says slowly, every word deliberate. “I like you a lot. A _lot_ , a lot. And I would love to be girlfriends.”

Miranda blinks, that familiar overwhelming feeling replacing the dread that filled her stomach. “Does that mean you trust me?”

“Sure. I think you’ve worked hard enough.” Shepard rubs at her shoulders through her coat and smiles tenderly down at her. Miranda’s heart pounds, thunders, but she rides it out, unable to hold her own smile back.

“Okay,” she breathes, placing her hands on Shepard’s waist and gripping onto her jacket.

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

“Great.”

A weak groan comes from the soldier below them and Miranda silences them with a kick, her eyes still on Shepard and her smile bright. Shepard doesn’t comment, only huffs out a tiny laugh through her nose. Miranda gets on her tiptoes, tilting her head just so. Shepard’s smile widens and she bends to meet her. They’re a breath apart, centimeters from contact, when the trees start rustling and Miranda hears a quiet _click_.

Miranda whips her hand out and brings up a biotic barrier just as a barrage of bullets hit them, making ripples in the blue static. Once it’s over, Shepard growls in frustration and pulls out her gun.

“Aw, come on, we were having a _moment!_ ” she shouts as she fires two shots into the trees. They hear just as many thuds, but there’s still movement within the forest. “Goddamn it, there’s more.”

Miranda moves to the shadowy trees, her gun at the ready. “We’ll have to go in after them.”

“Fuck. Okay.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, probably not.”

“This is why I said we should’ve killed them,” Miranda says as they go after their targets.

“ _I know, I know._ ”

 

* * *

 

“Where have you _been?_ ” Oriana asks as they rush back to her, both no worse for wear and managing to avoid involving civilians in a rather extended firefight. Oriana holds a bucket of popcorn and a bag of other snacks and looks suspiciously at them both. “I’ve been waiting here forever!”

Miranda is out of breath when she says, “Just took a quick walk. Talked some things over.” She takes the popcorn and passes it to Shepard without a word – she expended a lot of biotics in that fight and needs to replenish. So does she, now that she thinks of it. She takes the bag and grabs a bar of chocolate out of it, skipping the bottles of water.

“Talked?” Oriana gives her a significant look, a million questions hiding behind the one.

“Yes, we talked. It was good.”

Oriana beams at her. “Good. So, why exactly are you covered in leaves?”

“We took a walk through the trees. Very refreshing.” The soldier who had their head smashed into a truck would disagree.

“Took a ‘walk’, huh?” she says, raising an eyebrow with a knowing smirk. “Sure, whatever you—oh my god, are you bleeding?”

“What? Oh!” Miranda looks down at her hand and wipes the stray blood off on her jacket. “No, it’s okay, it’s not mine,” she says without thinking, making Oriana go from concerned to aghast. “I mean, it is. It’s mine, I just scraped my hand a little. But it’s fine, we’re both fine.”

Oriana gives her a long, searching look. “I know you’re lying, but I’m gonna assume it’s for a good reason and let it go.”

Miranda exhales. “Thank you.”

“Lo?” Oriana looks around her at Shepard. “You okay?” Miranda turns to look at her, too, and finds her holding the popcorn, looking like she hasn’t eaten any yet. She’s just staring down at it, unmoving and expressionless. At Oriana’s voice, she glances at her and her eyes are vacant, empty like she doesn’t really see her. It takes a moment for Miranda to realize what’s happening and move.

“We should sit down,” she says, taking the popcorn from Shepard and passing it to Oriana. She pulls Shepard by the arms toward a bench and gently sits her down. Shepard doesn’t resist or move, just looks down at her knees as Miranda sits next to her.

Miranda has no idea what triggered her this time, but she’s definitely checked out, mentally. Now all there is to do is wait. Oriana sits at Shepard’s other side and shoots her worried looks, but Miranda doesn’t explain, not yet. She just keeps her hand on Shepard’s shoulder, squeezing hard every so often to give her something grounding, bring her back to awareness.

Soon enough, Shepard blinks and looks up and around like she doesn’t know where she is. Miranda waits for it to come back to her. When it does, she lets out a long breath and rubs at her face.

“Goddamn it,” she says, her irritated voice muffled by her hands. “It happened again, didn’t it?”

“Yes. Are you alright?” Miranda asks. Shepard nods and she knows that the worst is over. Oriana doesn’t look any less anxious, though.

“Okay, what just happened?” she asks, peering at Shepard’s face.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Shepard says, managing to smile at her. It doesn’t help.

“What do you think triggered you?” Miranda asks. Shepard seems to give it some thought.

“Probably the trees,” she says slowly. “Elysium had a lot of trees. I had to run and fight through them. For days.” Her eyes are far away again, not entirely gone, but not completely here, either.

Oriana’s face opens in realization. “What does the bench feel like?”

After a moment, Shepard turns to her. “What?”

“The bench. Describe what it feels like.”

“It’s…hard. And kind of curved at the end.”

Oriana nods, encouraging. “Keep going. What’s under your feet?”

“Grass.” Miranda hears her shuffling her feet through the ground. “And dirt. And some rocks.”

“Good. Now, hold this.” She grabs a bottle of water from the bag and helps her curve her hand around it. “Can you feel how cold it is?”

“Yeah.”

“Squeeze it. Concentrate on feeling it.” Shepard does, her fingers going pink from the cold and then pale from the pressure. Miranda watches as condensation trickles over her skin and her breathing starts to regulate. Her eyes slide closed as her brow relaxes. She lets out a slow breath and presses the bottle to her face.

When she opens her eyes again, they’re clear. Fatigued, but no longer empty.

“Are you back?” Oriana asks carefully. Shepard nods, smiling tiredly. Oriana smiles back, her shoulders lowering. “Good. You should probably put your glasses back on, then. You look too much like you.”

“Right.” Shepard draws them from her pocket and fixes them onto her face. Miranda just stares at Oriana, mouth slightly agape.

“How did you know all that?” she asks, awed.

Oriana shrugs. “One of my dads was in the Alliance. He doesn’t get like this exactly, but that method usually helps him.” She brings a hand to Shepard’s back and talks softly to her, and Miranda would listen if she wasn’t so proud of her little sister she feels like she could burst. She’s once again overcome with love and is so glad she took Oriana away from their father when she did. Oriana would’ve never become anything close to the girl she is if Miranda had listened to the few doubts she’d had at the time. Henry Lawson would’ve ruined her. It’s a wonder someone so good even came from his DNA. If Miranda wasn’t so sure of it, she’d doubt Oriana’s relation to him.

All her work ever since she took her sister away from that horrible place has been worth it. She’d already known it before, but now she feels it like a heartbeat. She’d do it over and over again, no question.

Shepard recovers and they decide to call it a day. She apologizes profusely, but Oriana waves it away, insisting that she’s fine with ending it here. They walk to the carnival’s entrance before Oriana stops and turns to face them both.

“I just wanna say,” she starts, looking at the ground and then at them again. “This was the best birthday I’ve ever had. I’m just—less than a year ago I was an only child and now I’ve got you.” She smiles at Miranda, her eyes shining, and then at Shepard. “I’ve got the both of you. I’m so happy and grateful and…is it okay if I hug you?”

Miranda smiles. “Sure.” In the next second, Oriana throws her arms around Miranda’s shoulders and hugs her tight, burying her face in her hair. Miranda hugs her back, fighting a losing battle against her own tears. Oriana gives Shepard a hug, too, squeezing her middle and getting swallowed up by her larger frame as Shepard hugs her back just as hard, her eyes closed and her smile soft. Miranda watches them and knows for certain that this is what true happiness is.

She never would’ve dreamed of having so much a year ago, two years ago. She wouldn’t have considered herself deserving of it. She’s not sure she does yet, but she’s never been this close before. When she does, and she will, she knows she’ll have them both to keep her there.

Once Oriana’s done wiping at her face, she lets out a watery laugh and points to the side. “Let’s go in there.”

Miranda turns to see a large, curved box stationed by the carnival’s entrance. People walk in and out of it, families and couples, looking down at pieces of paper with big smiles. When they get closer, Miranda sees what it is.

“A photo booth?” Shepard says, grinning. “They still have those things?”

“Yep, and we’re going in.” Oriana takes both their hands and yanks them in just as a group of teenagers walk out, laughing loudly at their photos. It’s a little cramped inside with all three of them, but Oriana manages to set Shepard and Miranda up on either side of the box with her plopping down in between them.

“Okay,” she says, her face a little pink and splotchy from crying, but her smile wide as she uses the touchscreen in front of them. “Birthday girl chooses the theme!”

“Please don’t have our heads floating around,” Shepard says. “Go with something simple. Like mustaches.”

Miranda scoffs. “You seem experienced.”

“I have a lot of regrets. Most of them involve being a stupid teenager trying to impress a cute girl.”

“Did it work?”

“Oh, god, no, I embarrassed myself every day. She still dated me, god knows why.”

“I can relate.”

“Ready!” Oriana squeezes between them again. “It’s gonna have five photos and a seven-second countdown, so get pretty!”

“I don’t need seven seconds for that,” Shepard says, winking at an unimpressed Miranda.

“Oh, take off your glasses! Please?” Oriana adds when they shoot each other uncertain looks over her head. “Nobody’s gonna see these, I promise. I just want photos to commemorate this day and it has to be with your real faces. Please.”

Miranda sighs, smiling in defeat as she pulls her glasses off. “You heard the birthday girl.” Shepard does the same and they quickly get in position, Shepard’s long arm around them both and all three smiling as the booth takes the first picture. Another few seconds and it snaps the second one, this one with all three of them pointing finger guns at the camera, as per Oriana’s orders. The third involves both she and Shepard tickling Miranda in an attempt to make her smile bigger, which only makes her look like she’s crying, but it’s funny enough to have all three of them get captured laughing in the fourth.

“Okay, okay, last one,” Oriana says, still giggling. Shepard looks at Miranda over her head, her eyes pointing downwards at Oriana and back to her as her smile grows mischievous. Miranda furrows her brow, not getting it. Shepard looks down at Oriana again and purses her lips. Miranda barely manages not to snort.

“Alright, get ready!” Oriana says below them, not paying attention as the countdown nearly reaches its end. Just before the booth takes the final picture, Miranda and Shepard lean in and press their lips to either side of Oriana’s head, just in time for her gasp and squeal to be caught on camera. She laughs and covers her face with her hands, sounding like she might be crying all over again while Shepard joins her in laughter and wraps her up in another big hug. She yanks Miranda close and she joins them, pressing her face against Oriana’s shoulder and smiling big enough to hurt.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, sweetheart!” Oriana walks into her house and immediately gets caught in a big, tight hug from her mom. She laughs and hugs her back, her arms barely getting around her wide waist as she’s gently suffocated. “Did you have a good day?”

“I did!” she says, a little breathless and she pulls away. “Lots of fun. How was work?”

“Same as ever, but that’s not important.” Her mom grins and takes her by the hand. They go into the darkened living room and Oriana gasps at what she sees: her dads, looking tired but happy, sitting on the couch with a huge, cake bedecked with candles sitting on the coffee table. Carrot cake with brown butter cream cheese frosting, her favorite.

“Aw, you guys!” she gushes, giving them all hugs in turn. “This is amazing! How did you even hide the cake from me?”

“It was no easy feat,” her dad says, shaking his head. “With how often you go into the fridge, we had to do some strategic hiding.”

“It was behind the row of tomato juice, wasn’t it?”

“It was behind the row of tomato juice.”

“Disgusting.”

“C’mon, c’mon, blow out the candles!” her papa says, sitting her down. She kneels to face the cake, smiling down at the icing – _HAPPY 19 th_ written in the center with words surrounded by little hearts and haphazardly drawn stars.

Oriana closes her eyes and makes her second wish of the day before blowing the candles out. Her parents clap and give her another round of hugs and kisses before everyone digs in. Between the three of them, they make quick work of the cake and move on to gifts. She gets a new phone from her mom, a gorgeous handmade skirt from her papa, and a hefty gift card from her pragmatic dad. They ask her about her day, what she did and how her she celebrated her birthday with her friends from school. She tells them all the necessary facts and regales them with the tale of the Krogan plushie, leaving out the details that include the not-dead soldier and her previously unknown older sister. They don’t need to hear about all that. They’re overprotective as it is.

Once that’s done, she retires to her room, feeling pretty drained. Her parents give her one more lap in the love circle and let her go. She shuts the door behind her and lays out her spoils. A good haul. She drops her giant plushie on her bed and goes into her desk drawer to pull out her little treasure box – an old gift that she’s been using to stash away everything that’s important to her. The aged black surface still gleams when she presses her fingers against the side to unlock it with her fingerprint.

She digs into her purse and pulls out her latest treasure, staring down at it with a goofy smile on her face. She’s glad she only opted to use a light filter on them, rather than go all out. The photos are crisp and perfect. She especially loves the last one, laughing at her own reaction and wondering when those two planned that. They’re such weirdos. God, she loves them.

She presses the photo strip close to her chest before carefully placing it in the box and shutting it. Now it’s safe for only her to look at any time she wants. She puts it back in her desk and goes to get ready for bed. She checks herself out in her closet’s full-length mirror, getting on her tiptoes and stretching far before dropping back down with a sigh. Well, her second wish to grow a little taller is taking its time. But maybe she’s being greedy – her first one might already be coming true.

While she’s grabbing some pajamas, she thinks about what Miranda had said, that the two of them had ‘talked’. She didn’t explain, but from the way Shepard had looked at her when Oriana gave Miranda one more hug before getting on her shuttle, when Miranda couldn’t see, Oriana has her suspicions.

She goes into the bathroom and decides to send Randa a message later and ask. Just to make sure. She doesn’t want to think she wasted a wish.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again for being so patient and encouraging. thank you for your comments and kind words, this fic would've never gotten done without them. please make sure to do the same for all fics you like! creators live off of emotional support! 
> 
> i hope you had a good time! thank you!!


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